


Outcry

by DotColorful



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Guilt, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Interrogation, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Torture, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DotColorful/pseuds/DotColorful
Summary: Post-ESB AUDuring a visit to Naboo, Luke Skywalker makes a decision that leaves him having to deal with terrible guilt and regret. At the same time, he gets captured and interrogated by Vader, which results in an emotional turmoil for the young Jedi.Will Luke be able to survive his father's interrogation and save himself from his own destructive feelings of guilt?
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 102
Kudos: 205





	1. Just a Corpse

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! After writing two one-shots, I decided that it was finally time for a longer piece. Of course, this one is also focused on my all-time favorite father-son duo in the whole galaxy - Luke and Vader. I really hope that you enjoy it! Feel free to leave a comment and Kudos on this work - it really makes my day ;)
> 
> P.S. I'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (but my favorite one out there for sure!) 
> 
> TW: This chapter mentions the death of side characters.

Luke had always dreamed of that moment. 

He was alone in the mausoleum, a kaleidoscope of beautiful lights coming through a vitrage illuminating his face. It was quiet and peaceful; Luke liked it that way. He closed his eyes, absently tracing his fingers on the marble coffin in front of him. A single tear made its way down his cheek as he thought about the reason for the creation of this place. 

It was his mother’s grave.

He’d been planning to come here for a long time; it wasn’t really that hard to find out who his mother was. He had looked through old blueprints and datapads that Madine had given him, asked the older Alliance members some questions, and it wasn’t long before he learned of Padme Amidala’s name. 

_Where are you going?_ Leia had asked him when he went to the hangar bay at night, preparing one of the X-wings. He sighed; he didn’t want anybody to know where he was going. This was a personal trip for him - not something that the Alliance should be involved in. But for Leia… he could make an exception. 

_To… to Naboo. I found the names of my mother and father. My family’s from there,_ he told her, watching her forehead crease in surprise. Luke hadn’t talked much about his parents, and Leia certainly didn’t know that Vader was his fath-... that Luke _might be_ related to Vader. But she knew of his longing for answers, his attempts to learn more about his family and his past. 

_You won’t find anything there, Luke. It was a long time ago,_ she said and Luke knew she wanted to do good, to save him the disappointment of not finding new information. 

But Luke had made his decision. He knew he had to go to Naboo ever since he learned his mother’s name, ever since he found out that his parents had lived there. He needed _answers,_ he needed to learn more about his mother…

...and his father. 

Because deep down, no matter how hard he tried to deny it, he knew Darth Vader, the most feared man in the galaxy and his enemy, had sired him. 

He went to Naboo in secret - nobody knew he’d gone there, except Leia. He landed on the planet at night, immediately feeling a strong connection with the place, a link that could not be broken. 

_Is this where I would have been raised?_

The sun was already rising when he reached the tomb. Maybe it was out of respect, or maybe out of the need to _walk_ the grounds that his parents might have once walked, that he decided to go there on foot. It wasn’t a wise choice, and he realized so quickly. The Imperials were very active in this place, and he’d passed many garrisons as he sneaked through the fields. 

And now he was here, in his mother’s mausoleum, looking at a tomb where her body was lying in. 

_His mother._

He’d waited for this for so long. His father, his role model, was not who he thought he was - was not the hero of his dreams. His father had brutalized him and hurt him, but most importantly, he was _alive_ , and the very knowledge that he’d been deceived for his whole life shattered Luke’s world apart. But this? This was his mother. She was real - just a corpse, but still real. A true connection to what Luke once thought he was. 

He loved her. 

And he was sure she would have loved him as well. 

“Hello, mother,” he whispered quietly, waiting for a response, but not expecting any. What should he even say? ‘I’m… I’m very happy to finally… meet you,” he paused, his throat constricting as he desperately tried to hold back his tears. 

“I love you very much, mom,” he continued, accepting the futility of the fight against the urge to cry. ‘I hope… I hope that my father loved you too.”

He didn’t know why he’d said that. Maybe it was because he was hoping his parents _were_ in love, once. Or maybe he didn’t mean his mother, but himself. _I hope that my father loves_ ** _me._ **

“There’s so much I wish I could ask you,” he continued quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as it suddenly became too hard to look at the grave. “Vader says… he’s my father. But how can he be? How could you ever love a man like him?” But, of course, he got no response.

He waited for a while, his hand still touching the tomb, before he finally left, knowing and _feeling_ it was time to go back. He was vaguely aware of the tears falling down his cheeks as his heart silently grieved his mother’s death. 

He began making his way back to his X-wing, evading all the troopers that have started gathering in even greater numbers. _What were they all doing here?_

He continued walking, finally reaching his ship. But, to his surprise, he realized it wasn’t the only x-wing landed there.

There were three other ships next to his own.

At first, he thought that the imperials stationed on the planet had found out about him arriving there and decided to capture him. But no, they were _Alliance_ ships, all bearing the rebel insignia on their sides. But he’d… arrived there alone, hadn’t he? He hadn't told anyone about this trip, so why were there three other rebel ships? Had Leia told anyone about him going to Naboo?

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a familiar voice called his name.

“Luke! There you are!’’

He quickly spun around, just in time to notice Wedge running in his direction. He sounded… _urgent_ , Luke thought, _and relieved._ But what was he doing on Naboo? The Alliance was not planning any missions, so why were the rebels here?

“Wedge?” he asked, taking a few steps towards his friend. “What… what are you doing on Naboo? Why are there Alliance ships in here?”

“We’ve got… word… that the Empire is regrouping here…” Wedge panted as he finally reached Luke and the _four_ ships behind him. A small smile stretched on his face at the sight of his friend and Luke couldn’t help but smile back, even though his heart was clenching with uneasiness. _What was going on?_

“Mothma sent a full squadron here,” Wedge continued, finally catching his breath. “There are Imperials on Naboo - troopers, admirals… And supplies, a lot of supplies. They’ve got TIE fighters everywhere, weapons, explosives. Like, a whole bunch of them, Luke. Mothma told us-”

_Boom._

A sudden explosion rocked the ground, throwing them both off their feet. A thick cloud of dust was thrown in the air, surrounding them and making it impossible to see anything. Coughing, Luke pulled himself up on his elbows, moaning as he felt pain in his body that undoubtedly got hurt in the explosion. 

The cloud of smoke finally cleared and quickly, he got up, seeing his friend do the same. 

“What was that?!” he shouted to Wedge, walking to him on unsteady feet. 

“Ah, that must have been our squadron,” his friend smiled, although Luke could clearly see the grimace of pain on his face. 

“What?” he asked. “Why would you…-”

Another explosion shook the ground, this time further away. Both rebels swayed but managed to stay on their feet. 

“Told you-” Wedge continued. “Got word that the Empire is here. Mothma sent a squadron to blow them up. We were looking for you at the base, but… you weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry,” Luke apologized quickly. “I didn’t know you were gonna need me. I came here to visit… to deal with some personal stuff,” he added, reluctant to give away the real purpose of his journey to Naboo. Reluctant to say that he wanted to learn more about his mother.

To learn more about his father because he couldn’t admit that...

...that his father was Darth Vader. 

_Yep, definitely don’t want Wedge to know that_ , he thought bitterly.

“...’course, Luke,” he heard his friend say and he turned towards him. “We all got personal stuff to do. But we could really use your help now.”

“Sure thing,” Luke agreed quickly. “What do you want me to do?”

“We’re gonna rejoin our squadron and fly above the Imperial troops. Drop some explosives and then get the hell out of here,” Wedge explained. 

“Sounds easy enough,” Luke agreed. He quickly climbed into his ship, putting his helmet on and making sure the X-wing’s guns were charged. A surge of thrill ran through him - he loved this feeling right before a battle, this electricity that took over his actions as he skilfully flew in the air, destroying…

...destroying…

... _Naboo._

The rebels were ordered to bombard - _to destroy_ \- Naboo. 

He knew he shouldn’t really care - this was war, and destruction was a part of war… 

...but this was where his mother’s grave was. This was where he would have been raised. 

_This is wrong,_ he thought, _this is all wrong… I can’t-... I can’t just destroy this place…_

But then he remembered what the Empire had done to his Aunt and Uncle, to Leia and Han, to the whole Alliance - remembered that the Empire tortured and hurt those who he cared about - and understood that this was what must be done. He _had to_ help his squadron and blow up the Imperials stationed on this planet, even if it meant destroying his mother’s home planet. 

He didn’t have a choice. 

But he wished he had. 

“Alright,” he called out to Wedge, closing the front panel of his X-wing. “Let’s blow ‘em to pieces.”

  
  
  



	2. Time to Decide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is here!

Lights.

Flashes.

Screams, people dying in fire, Imperials running for their lives. 

“ _ Rogue two, take cover! _ ”

“Faster boys, we gotta get out of here before they call for support!”

Luke skillfully maneuvered his X-wing and dived down, shooting at an Imperial squad in front of him. Reunited with the Rouges, he flew through the air, destroying every trooper in his way. 

“Watch out, Wedge, an AT-AT in front of you!”

“Don’t worry, gonna take care of it.”

Lights, flashes, fires. 

A sound to Luke’s left - a TIE fighter. 

“Shit, they’re here! More Imperials coming!”

Luke took a sharp turn as a formation of TIE fighters approached them. He barely avoided the deadly lasers shot from the Imperial ships, but that wasn’t his biggest concern at the moment, because when he looked up, he could see a vague outline of a Star Destroyer…

… _ please don’t be the Executor _ …

...in the sky.

But of course it was the Executor, he thought. He could feel it now - could feel the deadly presence of his f-...  _ Vader _ abroad. 

Vader was coming. The Imperials had sent for support and Vader was coming. 

He didn’t have much time to think about that as another TIE fired at him and again he barely missed the shot. He flew up, his X-wing quickly reacting to his maneuvers as he attempted to get away. 

“Wedge, try to take them down!” He shouted as he dodged another round of fire. 

“Will do, Luke!” His squadmate sent back, sounding too cheerful in the current circumstances. 

_ But then again, Wedge hadn’t just visited the grave of the mother he never knew.  _

It was hard, though. They fired shot after shot and Luke couldn’t help but  _ regret _ that the planet was getting destroyed.  _ It was his mother’s home, and it should be kept safe!  _ But they were doing what needed to be done, he kept reminding himself. It was important to take those Imperials down and then get away from Naboo as fast as possible.

_ Before Vader came.  _

“Is that a Star Destroyer?” he heard one of the Rogues ask. They were nearing the Theed Royal Palace now, a small formation of TIE fighters following them. There was suddenly an explosion to Luke’s right - an Imperial ship blown to pieces.

“Afraid so,” Luke said, firing a shot that blew up another TIE. “And I think Vader’s in there.”

“ _ Shavit! _ ” Wedge cursed. “They must have called for assistance. We better get going before Lord  _ kriffing _ Vader shows up.”

They were above the Theed Royal Palace now. Luke admired the mighty structure with admiration. It looked…  _ pleasant _ , he realized. Like something from the old days of the Republic, when people didn’t only have to think about surviving, and could also focus on the  _ beauty  _ of their surroundings.

Again, he thought of his mother’s casket. There was that vitrage above the coffin, he remembered. A beautiful depiction of a woman, a breathtaking kaleidoscope of lights passing through the glass. Was this what his mother had been like?  _ Breathtaking? _

She must have been beautiful, his mother. She was beautiful, and kind, and loving, and caring, and she was…

...dead. 

_ His mother was just a corpse.  _

He swallowed the bitter tears of regret, tightening his hands around the X-wing’s controls. He looked down and saw people running - not Imperials, but merely civilians trying to escape the fight they were caught in. Luke felt guilt rush through him - those were innocent people who hadn’t done anything wrong, and yet many of them had probably died in the battle. 

They were running towards the Theed Royal Palace, he realized. They were trying to hide in there, hoping the structure would protect them from the Rebel fire.  _ Good _ , Luke thought - he didn’t want to kill innocents. He didn’t want to kill anyone at all, in the first place, but it was necessary. He was just hoping he didn’t do much damage to the homes of civilians who were living here. 

“Don’t shoot at the Palace,” he said into his commlink, turning his ship away from the structure. “People are hiding there.”

“Civilians?” Wedge asked. “Kreth, I thought there were only Imperials here.”

“Afraid not.”

“Hope we didn’t kill any,” his friend said through the comm. “Mothma said to only aim at the Imps anyway.”

Another TIE reached them; another exchange of fire. A scream from his squadmate, an X-wing blown to pieces. 

“Shit, we lost him!” 

“Guys, let’s get out of here!”

A sharp turn to the right, an explosion on the left. 

“There’s a shuttle on my radar, guys!” Luke heard. It was Hobbie’s voice, he realized, and he smiled upon hearing his friend. His joy didn’t last for long, though, as Hobbie’s next words hit him. “I think it’s Vader’s.”

_ No, no, not Vader, not ready yet… _

“Retreat!” Wedge screamed. “We’re going back to the Base!”

“Copy that!” 

They turned around, once again flying in the direction of the Palace. 

_ And then Luke saw it.  _

There was an Imperial on one of the Theed Palace’s towers, a fire rifle in his hand. Slowly, Luke’s eyes turned in the direction the trooper was aiming at - it was an X-wing landed on the ground, probably left by one of the Rebels. The Imperial was trying to blow up the X-wing, was going to fire at it and it was fine…

...but it was not. 

_ Because the X-wing was landed right next to his mother’s mausoleum.  _

Time slowed; everything went silent. Luke stared numbly at the tomb, slowly realizing what it all meant. 

The Imperial was going to blow up the X-wing, and the explosion was going to destroy his mother’s grave as well. 

_ No,  _ a quiet voice said.  _ No, it can’t happen.  _

_ But it will,  _ said another.  _ Your mother’s grave, the last link you have to her past, will be destroyed.  _

Slowly, Luke turned back to the Imperial on the Palace’s tower. There was a generator right next to him. If he could only hit it with his shot…

_ No!  _ He thought.  _ You can’t! There are innocent civilians hiding there, you can’t just blow up the Palace! _

But if he did… If he destroyed it, the Imperial would be killed, and his mother’s grave would be saved. 

_ You can’t kill thousands of people just to protect a corpse! _

But he had to. He  _ wanted _ to. That moment, that moment when he stood next to his mother’s body… he didn’t feel alone. He felt safe, protected, and… loved. He got to taste the life he always wanted, a life with a family, a life where he was cared for by his  _ parents… _

And if he let the grave be destroyed, he would lose all of that. 

Suddenly, the lives of the civilians didn’t matter to him anymore. Scratch that, they could die for all he knew, if only that meant protecting his mother! All the Jedi teachings, all the ethics he ever knew were lost on him. His head was only  _ protect my mother  _ now, because it was all that mattered, because it was what needed to be done. 

_ I just wanted a life with my family! _

The turmoil receded; he knew what he had to do. His hands tightened on his X-wing’s controls, right on the trigger. One push, and the Palace would be blown up. His mother would be safe. 

Of course, there were alternatives, but what did it matter? He could just try to aim at the Imperial, without even destroying the structure, but… he didn’t think of that. He wanted  _ revenge.  _ He wanted destruction because his mother had died, because he deserved to have known her and now they were trying to take her away from him!

He didn’t even know her name. 

Didn’t matter; didn’t matter.  _ Faster, Luke, do what needs to be done! _

An image appeared in his mind. A blurred one; a sad face of a woman holding his newborn body on her breast. 

A tear fell down his cheek and he smiled.  _ I’m sorry,  _ he apologized to those hiding in the Palace.  _ I need to do this.  _

And then he fired. 


	3. Father and Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter's up!
> 
> Luke is about to deal with the aftermath of his actions. Also, Vader shows up. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this one! If you liked this chapter, please leave kudos and comments;)

He fired. 

For a moment, everything stopped. No more flashes, no more explosions, no more lights. It was all slow, all quiet. Peaceful, even, Luke thought. The shot flew through the air gracefully, avoiding all obstacles, a beautiful flash of light. Luke saw it near the Palace, saw it touch the generator, saw it go through it, slowly spreading cracks to the structure. 

It was as if the whole galaxy had just stopped and remained silent. 

Waiting.

And then there was a flash, and suddenly the world was fire and smoke, throwing his X-wing back. The ship lost control and Luke plummeted down, nose up, before crashing in the wet ground. He didn’t feel any pain yet; his body was too much in shock to register anything at all. Almost unconsciously, he pulled up the hood of his X-wing, getting out of it and jumping on the ground, not noticing the pain in his leg as he did so. The cloud of smoke cleared a bit and he looked up, squinted his eyes…

And saw that the Theed Royal Palace was gone. 

There was smoke everywhere, and rubble, and rocks. Pieces of destroyed walls and metal were falling from the sky, along with sticky blood and torn limbs. He stared emotionlessly at the spots of crimson marking his clothes, the dead bodies dropping on the ground, the ruins that were becoming more and more visible as the smoke cleared.

Then, slowly, the sound came back. First gasps and quiet shouts of disbelief, then panicked voices and cries, and then suddenly there were shouts of denial, and screams, and movement all around him. He got trapped between a wave of people, a crowd running in all directions, trying to aid those who were trapped under the ruins, to carry those who were already dead. Both the surviving civilians and the Imperials ran around him, panicked and frantic.

And he just stood. 

A cry to his left - something about a dead daughter, a scream of denial…

...and then a shout to his right - a trooper asking for a stretcher, and three other Imperials carrying a dead body out.

Had he… had he done this?

Had  _ he  _ killed all those people?

No! No, no, no… he couldn’t… he couldn’t have… he would never…-

“Luke!” he heard someone scream, but he didn’t turn around. He wasn’t even sure if he’d heard a scream at all. 

“Luke!” the voice repeated, and this time he looked behind him, saw two rebel ships landed close. There was someone running towards him, probably Wedge, and he just  _ stared _ .

“Luke, we have to get out! Vader’s coming, we have to get out now!”

Vader? Yes, Vader. Luke felt him now. His presence was here, on the planet, and it was already too late. 

But what did it matter? He killed those people, he deserved to die…

“Luke, we gotta go! Come on!”

Suddenly, he felt like it was important to run from Wedge, to get away, because he was a murderer, he’d killed innocents and he couldn’t go back to the Rebels, couldn’t face them anymore…

Why had he done it? Why had he fired?

But of course, he knew the answer. He wanted to save his mother.  _ Her corpse.  _

He’d killed innocent people to save a corpse. 

“Luke, no, don’t run!  _ We have to go! _ ”

“Leave him!” Another voice said. “We don’t have time!”

“I’m not leaving him-”

“ _ Go! _ ”

And Luke didn’t hear anymore, but he sensed them leave, felt that he was left alone on this planet, alone amidst the people running around the destroyed Palace frantically, looking for the dead bodies. 

And there was the cold presence of his father, nearing him more and more, and he shivered, and fell to his knees, and  _ what have I done…!? _

And again, he stopped understanding what was happening. There were ruins in front of him.  _ What ruins? What had just happened? _

And he just stood there and stared absently. 

Stood as he heard a shuttle land behind him, as stormtroopers ran towards him and surrounded him, as a cold presence neared him so much that he couldn’t breathe anymore...

“ _ Skywalker. _ ”

But he didn’t hear that, didn’t hear anything anymore. He was panicked and yet numb, and he didn’t understand any of it...

A gloved hand caught his arm and tightened around it. He tripped, stumbled at the sudden movement as Vader pulled him towards himself and away from the fallen Palace. He didn't fight, didn't struggle even as his father caught his other arm and turned him so that he was facing the Dark Lord. His head was still looking behind him, though, his absent gaze taking in the collapsed ruins.

"Look at me," he heard Vader say but he refused to meet his gaze, refused to look away from the people he'd killed. His father's hands tightened, pulling his body even closer, and still he looked behind, still tried to comprehend what he'd just done.

_ I've killed them. _

Vader's hand let go of his arm only to grip his chin and forcefully turn him to meet his gaze. Luke blinked, absent, expressionless, his breathing slightly uneven as he stared at his father's mask. Troopers gathered around them, ready to secure the prisoner from Vader, but Luke didn't notice them, didn't  _ understand  _ anything.

_ I've killed them. _

"Luke Skywalker," Vader intoned, his grip returning to his son's arm. "You are accused of deliberately destroying Imperial property and murdering the Naboo citizens present in the-..."

Again, Luke turned his head, looking at the ruins of the Palace, the crowd that had formed around it. He heard the voices of people crying in grief and agony, troopers shouting commands as they were pulling dead bodies from the rubble. Vader's voice was lost on him - he heard the words, but didn't understand them. Didn't understand he'd killed those people, didn't understand he was getting captured by Vader.

Vader's gloved hand was suddenly on his chin and once again, his head was turned in the Dark Lord's direction.

" _ Focus, _ " his father seethed, pulling his face closer to his mask. "Are you  _ aware _ of the charges that have just been pressed  _ against you _ ?"

Luke didn't answer, his gaze once again slipping and looking sideways, somewhere far behind Vader's mask.

_ I've killed them. _

"Answer the question."

But Luke didn't even remember the question anymore.  _ They're dead,  _ a voice in his head reminded him.  _ Dead...who's dead...who died? _

Gloved hands shook his arms.

"W...what...?" He asked, disoriented, confused, his eyes focusing on Vader at last. What did they want from him, what happened? Were the troopers around them for him, was Vader capturing him because  _ he's killed those people, he's killed them... _

_...I? I killed? I couldn't have, I'm... _

" _Answer me, Skywalker,"_ Vader said once again and Luke flinched at the commanding tone in his father’s voice. "Are you aware of the charges that have just been pressed?"

He gasped, looked away, licked his lips.  _ Charges... pressed... what happened... _

"I don't... I don't understand..." he said finally, unorganized thoughts hitting him with each breath. Vader was holding him.  _ Vader was holding him? _

"What don't you understand?" the baritone voice asked, suddenly amused. "Are you not aware of the crime you've committed?"

"...crime?" He asked, confused. "I've... committed... I didn't..."

He felt a spark of concern in the Force but ignored it, his mind suddenly filled with a gut-wrenching scream.

"He's dead!" A female voice cried and Luke turned just in time to see a woman running across the field and into the ruins of the Palace. "He was inside! He’s dead!"

Unaware of his actions, Luke tore away from his father's grip, ran towards Palace, and dropped on his knees.

_ He was inside! He's dead! _

_ I killed him. _

"Don't move, scum!" he heard one of the troopers shout, heard the buzz of the blasters they drew, their steps as they ran towards him.

_ He's dead! He's dead! _

He tore his gaze away from the Palace and turned, just to see Vader holding up a hand and stopping the troopers. They obeyed, lowering the barrels and observing Luke who was still kneeling. Again he turned to the Palace, again he looked at the ruins.

_ Dead! Dead! He's dead, Skywalker, he's dead! _

The woman was still there, still running among the ruble, the destroyed walls.

"He's dead!" she screamed again. "He's dead, he's dead!"

Vader walked up to Luke, snatched his arm, and pulled him upright.

And still, the woman screamed. "Please, help, he's dead!"

"Who's dead?" Luke asked as his eyes locked with Vader's, his voice trembling in confusion. "Father,  _ please _ , who's dead?"

Vader didn't answer, instead tightening the grip on his arm and pulling him away from the Palace and towards the troopers, towards a shuttle that was, as Luke finally noticed, right behind them.

"Who's dead?" he asked again, desperate this time, digging his heels into the ground as his father kept pulling him by his arm.

And again, there was no answer, again there was the woman's scream, again Vader roughly pushed him forward.

"Please," he begged, he sobbed, his body trembling and he realized he was going into a shock. "Please,  _ please, _ who's dead?!"

They finally stopped and Vader turned him around, allowing the troopers to put binders on Luke's arms. He numbly observed as they chained him and flinched as the cold metal snapped around his wrists. Vader released him and Luke stumbled, immediately caught by the Stormtroopers.

"Bring him to the  _ Executor-"  _ Vader stated and briefly looked into his son's eyes before focusing his attention on the guard holding Luke. "-and await my arrival."

"Yes, my Lord!"

"Father," Luke tried again, feeling his voice tremble along with his body, his throat constricting as shock took control of his muscles. His breathes were shallow, erratic, and he felt as if he was going to collapse any second. "Father, please, who died?"

The Dark Lord took a step forward and Luke tensed, expecting the gloved hand to grasp his chin. But Vader merely stood there, observing him for a moment, before finally saying the words that brought upon Luke the awful understanding of what he'd just done.

"Everyone," he stated coldly. " _ You _ have killed everyone present in the Palace."

The words hit Luke before he was ready to hear them and he swayed on his feet, trembled and finally collapsed, shock finally taking control of his body and granting him peaceful oblivion.


	4. Through the Viewport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's dealing with his guilt while Vader contemplates his son.

_ I've killed them... _

His eyes kept coming back to the viewport, looking at the violent scene before him, the chaos of troopers and civilians looking for bodies trapped under the rubble. When he regained consciousness, Vader had already left, and the troopers had taken him to a shuttle and locked him in a holding cell at the back. They had not taken off yet, and the compartment he was in had a viewport.  _ They did it on purpose, _ he thought as his eyes involuntarily slipped to the violent sight before him,  _ they are forcing me to watch what he had done. _

He caught a glimpse of a little girl among the people, a mere child struggling in her father's arms. The man was trying to keep her from running towards the ruins, Luke understood, as he looked at her frantic movements, the way she was trying to free herself from her father's grip.

She must have lost someone when the building collapsed. A family member. A mother.

_ My mother is just a corpse. _

_ I've killed them. _

He knew there should be remorse, grief, guilt, even feelings of hatred towards himself.

But there was nothing.

Those people died,  _ he killed them _ , but there was nothing except for emptiness in his mind, nothing except terrible, agonizing oblivion.

His body was still - still as his mother's corpse was, still as the bodies of all the people killed during the collapse. But his eyes weren't seeing them anymore, now fixed on a distant point, a white spot somewhere far behind the fallen building, far behind all responsibility.

_ I've failed. I've failed. _

_ I've killed them. _

_ But you've saved your mother,  _ a tiny voice replied, a voice of selfishness at the back of his head. It was there along with the darkness he carried, along with the guilt and grief he desperately tried to hold back.

_ I've killed them... killed... killed them... _

He suddenly felt something warm trickling down his hands and he snapped out of his thoughts with a gasp. He looked down, noticing blood staining his fingers and marks on his skin. He was vaguely aware of his realization - the fact that he'd been digging nails into his skin - but rubbed his bound hands nonetheless, trying to get rid of the stains.

_ So, you’ve got blood on your hands, huh, Skywalker? _

In a sudden surge of emotion, Luke cried out, hitting his bound hands on the window, watching as blood smeared on the glass. Guilt seized his muscles, controlling them, curling his fingers and forcing him to catch his head and squeeze his eyes.

"It was my mother!" he shouted into the empty space, again hitting the viewport with his fist. "I did the right thing, it was my mother!"

_ My mother is just a corpse. _

"I'm a monster," he whispered, his voice breaking slightly as he hit his forehead on the glass before plastering his cheek to the cool surface, feeling tears slid down his face. His hands were pressed to the window, fingers spread wide, trying to get a grip and stabilize his body because otherwise, he was going to fall,  _ fall, fall like he did on Bespin... _

_ Control, control, you must learn control,  _ Yoda had once said and now Luke obeyed, trying to calm his erratic breathing. Minutes passed and finally, his heartbeat slowed, his breaths evened, his fingers uncurled. His state was however far from the  _ Jedi calm  _ Yoda so desperately tried to teach him.

_ I've killed them. _

A sob tore from his throat, and then another, and then he was crying, body shaking, hands still plastered to the window. Guilt washed over him, grief for the people who had died, grief for the little girl who lost her mother when the building collapsed.

_ You have no right to cry. _

But he couldn't stop, his whole frame shaking, because he was a murderer,  _ a murderer _ !

He felt so... detached, now. So distant from himself. His mind was far away, trying to lift the burden of killing so many innocent souls.

_ You've killed before _ , a voice reminded him.  _ You've blown up the Death Star _ .

But this... this was different. When he fired that shot on Yavin 4, he was protecting the Rebellion. It was them or the Empire. But the people on the station were innocent; they didn't have to die. They were killed, killed by Luke Skywalker, so that he could save the dead corpse of his mother.

He was selfish.

He was no Jedi.

He stood there for many more minutes; his eyes were still absently watching the ruins behind the glass. The cheeks that heated up when he cried were now slowly cooling down, plastered to the cold surface of the window. His breaths were still erratic, but he's managed to partially regain his calm and wasn't crying anymore.

His absent eyes didn't see the little girl still looking for her mother's corpse in the rubble.

_ *** _

It's been a few hours since Skywalker's capture; a few hours since the Theed Royal Palace was destroyed.

A few hours since Vader had finally got his son into his custody.

He was surprised the boy didn't even try to fight. After their encounter on Bespin, he had expected his son to resist and deny him in every way, but Luke was...  _ troubled _ , to say the least. He was in shock when Vader had found him; the Dark Lord wasn't even sure if the boy had understood anything he had told him at all. He could still recall the empty, unfocused gaze that kept slipping to the remains of the Palace, the panicked expression on his face when he told him to focus,  _ but the boy couldn't focus _ , and the desperate pleading as his son asked him again and again about who had died. 

And Vader had been cruel, and he had told him the truth; had told him that everyone had died, that the Palace was completely destroyed. He offered his son no comfort even as his eyes desperately pleaded for it, begged for his father to  _ explain _ what was happening, and still Vader was emotionless and deaf to Luke's pleas. He told him he was convicted -  _ he had arrested his own son _ \- and the boy was just so lost...!

But it had to be done. There was no connection between them. He had never known Luke, and Luke had never known him. They were enemies.

And yet the sight of Luke's unfocused blue eyes could not leave his mind. 

_ You’ve killed everyone present in the palace, _ he had said, and his son had fainted, overwhelmed by what he had done. Vader could still remember the way his eyes rolled in their sockets, the way his body went limp and started falling. He had caught it, then, but he had been rough because that was what was expected of him.  _ His son was a rebel, a traitor, and deserved no mercy.  _ So he had gripped his son by his shoulders; his gloved fingers dug into his arms and felt strong muscles underneath, probably shaped by months of training. Luke’s head had flung back and he saw his face, streaked with the blood of those who he’d killed, but below that, there was Anakin’s chin and Padme’s nose, and the deep blue eyes that were closed. 

When his son woke up, he would know only terror. He was going to have to deal with the Imperial procedure following murder and destruction of the Empire’s property; would have to deal with hours of torture and interrogation; of pain and questions; of his father’s demands. But Vader knew it was not what was going to break his son.

It was the weight of guilt that was going to crush Luke Skywalker’s spirit. 

It was needed, though. His son would be broken by the torture, smashed by the cruelty of his interrogators. And then, hopeless and desperate, he would fight his last battle - the battle against his own guilt. He would fight, and he would lose; his crushed spirit would have no other way but to turn to Vader, the only person who would offer him comfort.

And then Luke would be his. 

The boy will learn to obey; he will learn that it is pointless to resist, that he must cooperate and answer all his father’s questions. And Vader will interrogate him ruthlessly; remind him of what he had done again and again. Eventually, his son  _ will _ give up. 

But, deep down, there was guilt in his heart. Vader knew that what was about to come would change his son forever, and it was this knowledge that made him _feel_ _something_ for the first time in years. 

So, after the troopers took Luke from his arms, carrying his body by his shoulders, his feet grazing the floor, the Dark Lord turned in the direction of the only place in the galaxy that mattered to him anymore.

And, as Luke was waking up in the holding cell in the shuttle, Darth Vader walked into Padme’s mausoleum, slowly putting his hand on her tomb.

_ I’m sorry, my love. I  _ **_must_ ** _ do it. I cannot save him from what is to come. He will fight the pain that I will inflict upon him, but it is not what will break him down.  _

_ I can’t save our son from himself.  _


	5. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke's getting interrogated by Vader while he tries to understand his feelings about what had happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains themes of interrogation. There is no graphic violence YET, but I'm putting a warning just in case ;) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Luke was exhausted.

He didn’t know how much time had passed since his capture; it could be a few hours, it could be a few days. He lost track of it long ago, too focused on trying to control his emotions of guilt, fear and regret to think about anything else. 

After he was transported to the Executor, he was locked in a cell, left alone with his violent thoughts. It was dark in there, and still it was too bright; the lights hurt him in his eyes, drilled into his skull with searing force. They hadn’t given him any food or water, but it didn’t bother Luke - at least, not for now. He was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold anything down anyway. 

At first, he’d spend the long hours in his cell pacing around, reliving the massacre on Naboo, fighting off the panic creeping upon him. He was mumbling to himself, trying to calm his agonized thoughts, but it was impossible. He did not have any respite. 

Then, he had tried to sleep; that was, however, impossible as well, as every time he closed his eyes, he could hear the screams of the civilians, could see the little girl who had lost her mother. 

Everywhere around him, there was rubble and corpses, and he knew he was responsible for all of this. 

_ I’m a murderer.  _

Then, he had cried; pulling at his hair, throwing his body against the walls in rage, he wailed in despair, unable to forgive himself. 

Eventually, he had given up; had simply lied on the sleeping platform, unable to move, unable to think anymore. He just waited. 

It might have been hours, or it might have been weeks before Vader showed up. The moment his father’s menacing figure appeared , he wished he could go back to being alone in the cell. Maybe it was because he was afraid of what was about to happen; maybe it was because he couldn’t deny the sudden feeling of  _ excitement  _ upon seeing the man who had sired him. 

The Dark Lord stepped into the cell, followed closely by two guards. For a few moments, they stood there in silence, Vader’s bulk blocking the exit behind him. Luke looked up at him with a mixture of emotionlessness and exhaustion; as much as he wished to keep a defiant appearance, he knew he would not be able to keep his composure with the guilt weighing down on him. His father returned his gaze - although he couldn’t see the Dark Lord’s eyes, the piercing stare was easy to detect through the Force. They looked at each other for a few moments, fighting a silent battle, before Vader took two steps forward and planted himself right in front of his son. Their eye contact never broke, and Luke refused to cower despite the growing uneasiness he felt in his stomach. 

“Release him,” his father eventually commanded. Swiftly, the guards moved, grasping his shackled hands and taking his binders off. Luke did not pay them any attention, though; his gaze was still unmoving and trained on Vader. It was the only thing he could do for now - to prove his strength and not look away from the Dark Lord, even though both father and son knew it wouldn’t be long before the young Jedi’s spirit would be crushed. 

“Is there anything else you require, My Lord?” the guards asked, stepping back from the prisoner and taking their place behind Vader’s back. 

“Yes,” Vader replied. “Prepare a stimulant and have it ready to use.”

Luke’s gaze  _ did  _ slip at that. His heart skipped a beat in his chest as he looked down, suddenly desperate to hide his frantic expression from his father. A  _ stimulant,  _ Vader had asked for a  _ stimulant.  _ Vader needed Luke conscious and aware in case he got too…  _ overwhelmed  _ by whatever was to come. His father would offer him no respite; would torment him, question him again and again, until Luke would comply with his demands. 

There would be no end, no relief from his guilt and regrets; and endless loop of suffering. No sleep, no unconsciousness to hide in and escape from the overwhelming turmoil he felt. 

“Yes, My Lord. Any further requirements?”

There was a moment of silence in which different possibilities of his father’s reply filled Luke’s mind -  _ yes, prepare an IT-O droid, prepare electro-shock probes, prepare…- _

“No,” the Dark Lord said. “Leave us. Skywalker and I are going to have a...  _ discussion… _ about what had happened.” 

And then he was left alone with Vader in the small cell; the Sith towering over his son’s lean form curled up on the bench. Another flash of fear passed through Luke’s eyes. Leia had never spoken of Vader's interrogation, but she didn't have to - Luke knew enough anyway. 

Knew  _ his own father _ was going to torture him if he didn't give the answers he would be asked for. 

There was  _ conflict _ inside of him; one that was very hard for Luke to understand. A part of him felt he  _ deserved  _ the torture. He’d killed the people in the Palace, he was a murderer, and those people were innocent, they hadn’t done anything wrong…

But then, he feared what was about to happen. He feared the pain that would be inflicted upon him, the questions that Vader would ask, the fact that he would be forced to relive what had happened on Naboo. But most of all, he feared that it was  _ his own father _ who would torture him. 

Because, as much as he tried to deny it, the very thought of being with his father  _ excited _ him. Yes, he was Luke’s enemy and yes, he had tortured his friends, but it was  _ his father.  _ The man he had always wished to know, the legend that had been with him ever since he was a child. There was this need inside of him, a desire to prove his worth to his father and make him proud - to show him that Luke was worthy of the Dark Lord’s attention, protection, and… love. 

But he knew Vader would not  _ love  _ Luke. 

Vader would only torture his child. 

Luke refused to think about that. 

Vader regarded him for a long, drawn-out moment, his eyes skimming through Luke's slight form sitting tensely on the bench. His son was exhausted, terrified, and in shock, his body heavy with the guilt of the act he had committed. Vader could feel the conflict in his child. There was the fear of being tortured - a valid concern, considering the horrors that awaited him. But, underneath that, Vader also sensed something else - something like acceptance and understanding - and he realized that his son felt like he deserved to be tormented for what he had done. 

_ Interesting,  _ he thought _.  _ Predictable, but interesting nonetheless. 

“I trust that you will cooperate in order to make this as painless as possible,” he intoned at last. It was a standard  _ interrogation opening line _ , if he could even call it such, very effective in putting the prisoners under the impression that they had some form of control over the torture process. Of course, that wasn’t even remotely true, yet Vader had questioned many rebels in the past, and almost every one of them had heard the infamous line. 

But again, he was reminded that the rebel before him was not an insignificant boy. 

It was his  _ son.  _

_ Their  _ son. 

But it didn't matter - not anymore. Luke _ would be _ his. Broken and crushed by his guilt, questioned and endlessly tormented until he would be no more but a slave blindly obeying his master, but he would be  **his.**

Just as he should always have been. 

After all, he was giving his son what he desired. Luke wanted a father, and he would get one - but he would have to give his free will in return.

Vader had learned a long time ago that everything has a price. 

“I will accept no disobedience,” he said, informing his son that there was no escape from what was about to come. “You  _ will _ answer everything I ask. Is that clear?” 

Luke did not answer him. In fact, he did not even acknowledge that he had just been asked a question. Instead, he had lowered his gaze to the floor, although Vader couldn’t tell if it was out of defiance or shame. 

Again, it didn’t matter. Luke would learn his place. 

“I believe I asked you a question,” he said, his tone unnervingly calm.  _ Too calm.  _

And still, Luke was silent, not a word leaving his mouth. Angered by his son’s ignorance, he strode forward, grasping a fistful of the boy’s hair and forcing his head up. Luke glared at him, his eyes defiant, but Vader could see the underlying fear in them.  _ Good,  _ he thought. It was better if his son was afraid; it would be easier to break him. 

“Let me make this clear, boy,” he said, his tone almost ironic. “You will not leave this place until you answer my questions.”

To his surprise, his son smiled at that. It was a disgusted smile, though - disgusted and defiant, a clear expression of his son’s lack of respect. 

Vader would not tolerate that. 

“You think I believe this?” Luke asked, a tinge of fake amusement in his voice - a pitiful attempt to mask the underlying fear. “We both know you won’t let me go anyway.” 

Vader’s anger flared up at that.  _ How dare his son mock him, how dare he defy him!?  _ Hatred swirled inside of him as he raised his hand, ready to punish Luke for his behavior. 

But… no. That would only show weakness. He  _ would not _ be caught up in Luke’s childish acts of defiance and mockery. His son needed to realize that his words were insignificant - that Vader would accept nothing but obedience. 

“You have still not answered my question.”

Luke understood, then; understood that there was no point avoiding or resisting his father’s interrogation; and so, his shoulders slumped and he nodded in resignation. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “I understand.”

“Good,” Vader said, letting go of the boy’s hair. “Let’s begin, then. Do you admit that you were the pilot who destroyed the Theed Royal Palace?”

There was pain at this question, but no disobedience. They both knew Luke had been responsible for the explosion, and although the boy was desperately trying not to think of what he had done, he was too righteous to deny the crime he had clearly committed. 

“Yes,” he replied quietly. His response was immediately followed by feelings of guilt, regret and remorse released into the Force, but Vader rejected them, unwilling to confront the turmoil Luke was facing. 

“Are you  _ aware _ that innocent people have been killed as a result of your actions?” he continued. Of course, this was a rhetorical question - they both knew Luke was all too aware of what he had done. The question served its purpose, though, as his son immediately flinched, hiding his face from his father. Vader knew what this was doing to Luke - knew that the boy was desperately fighting his guilt and regrets, trying not to let his spirit be broken despite his father’s painful reminder of what he had done. 

Frantic and afraid of talking about the Naboo massacre, his son remained silent.

“ _ Luke, _ ” he warned. The boy raised his eyes, at that. They were glassy, and his voice was watery as a quiet ‘yes’ left his lips. 

But Vader was indifferent to his son’s emotional suffering. 

“Then why-,” he began, making sure his son could hear each word clearly. “-have you done it?”

As he expected, his son did not respond to this question as well. Vader needed the answer, though;  _ needed  _ to know what had driven his son to such an act. Of course, there was the curiosity of why Luke - a righteous and honorable Jedi - had killed the people on Naboo. But, above that, he needed the boy to understand that the Dark Lord had power over his regrets and guilt.

That there was nothing more important than obeying his father. 

“I will not ask you twice,” he threatened. 

And still, there was silence. 

And then:

“...I can’t...” 

His son raised his head along with those words and Vader noticed a pleading look in his eyes - Luke was silently begging his father not to force the memories of the Naboo massacre upon him. 

He would be disappointed. 

“...I can’t tell you,” Luke repeated, desperation creeping up in his voice. 

“Is that so?” Vader asked, amused. “And why is it that you cannot tell me?” 

The boy shook again. “I... I just can’t…”

And it was the truth. Unknowingly to the Dark Lord, Luke had done it to save his mother’s grave, and although he knew it did not justify his actions, he still felt the need to protect it. He didn’t know how his father would react if he told him; didn’t know if he could even face a conversation about his mother. 

And, most importantly, he just  _ couldn’t  _ bring himself to talk about what he had done. 

His guilt was killing him, eating him up from the inside, destroying him and crushing him with every second. He wanted to cry, but he had cried so much already that he didn’t know whether his body would even allow him to. There were so many emotions inside of him and he couldn’t make anything of it; couldn’t deal with the guilt, the pain, the fear of what he had done…

He blinked, feeling a tear fall past his temples as he looked up at Vader with watery eyes. A wish passed through him, suddenly - a wish that his father would hug him and comfort him, because he needed it so much, because he couldn’t bear the shame he felt…

But Vader would not comfort him. He would torture him. 

“Let’s try something different, then,” he heard his father say, his terrifying figure walking away. “ _ Tell me _ about the location of your rebel base.” 

At first, Luke felt relief; there was comfort in knowing he would not be questioned about Naboo anymore. But then, realization hit him - his father was asking him about the Alliance, about his friends, and Luke knew he would not betray them. Again, fear passed through him. What would Vader do? Would he really be able to withstand his father’s torture without giving away any of the Alliance’s secrets? 

_ He would have to.  _

So, gaze hardening, chin raising in defiance, he spat:

“I won’t tell you anything, Vader.”

Burning anger flashed in the Force, quickly followed by amusement. Luke braced himself. 

“Then, my son,” his father said at last, “you leave me no choice.”


	6. Torment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke gets tortured by Vader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some pretty graphic descriptions of violence, so I'm putting a trigger warning.
> 
> Happy reading!

_ “Then, my son, you leave me no choice.” _

Without any warning, Vader strode forward, his right hand unclipping the lightsaber from his belt at the same time. The ruby blade sprang to life even before Luke fully realized what was happening, and his eyes widened in fear as he felt the heat radiating from the weapon. 

As quickly as possible, he threw his body to the side, trying to avoid the black-clad hand that was now reaching out for him. Vader was quicker though; there was nothing Luke could do as the Dark Lord swiftly turned around and pushed his son’s body against the wall. The gloved hand reached out again, this time catching Luke’s right arm and pinning him. 

“No! _ ”  _ he shouted desperately as his father brought the lightsaber up to his face. He struggled frantically against the hold on his arm, wincing in pain as the heat radiating from the blade mildly burned the skin on his forehead. 

“There are consequences to every action, Luke,” the baritone voice thundered, barely audible underneath the lightsaber’s loud hum. The blade was brought even closer - not near enough to touch his skin, but close enough to leave scorching marks on his forehead. Luke hissed in pain, refusing to further voice his agony. “You cannot avoid this.”

“ _ I can resist _ ,” Luke spat, glaring up at Vader. “I won’t give you what you want.”

There was silence at his words and Luke shivered, afraid of the punishment that his defiance would bring him. But Vader simply stared at him, breathing calm and unnerving, before an amused statement left his lips. 

“We shall see.”

And suddenly, the Dark Lord raised his lightsaber in a quick move, only to bring it down and embed it in his son’s left thigh. Luke howled in agony; his knees buckled at the searing pain and he fell forward, only to be brought back against the wall by Vader. 

A few moments passed before he caught his breath, strangled gasps leaving his lips as he struggled to stay conscious in Vader’s unyielding grip. His body was limp and his shoulders were slumped; sweat trailed lazily down his cheeks as he tried to fight off the searing pain in his leg. 

“Luke.”

He raised his eyes slightly, looking at his father with a mixture of disgust and exhaustion. 

“...it’s..not a f-fair…fight...fath...er,” he gasped out before slumping in Vader’s grip again. The Dark Lord threw him on the floor at that; Luke landed hard on his back, moaning quietly as his head hit the floor. 

“You will learn to obey, Luke,” he heard the baritone voice say. Slowly, he rolled over, turning onto his stomach. A wave of nausea passed through him as he tried to get to his hands and knees, only to fall on the ground again. Frustrated, he reached out with his right arm and started a painful crawl away from Vader, his body leaving a bloody trail on the floor behind him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get away from his father; the Dark Lord knew it too. And yet, he refused to give up, refused to go down without a fight. He reached out with his arm again, painfully putting his body forward. Agony was racking through him and his eyes were watering with pain as, inch by inch, he crawled away from his father. 

He didn’t make it far; he was still close to Vader when the Dark Lord brought the blade down, once again embedding it in the same spot. He wailed in agony as the saber melted through his tissue and bone, the edges of the wound frying in the heat of the murderous weapon. Exhausted, his head dropped against the floor, sweaty forehead pressed to the ground, tears of pain falling down his cheeks. 

“I believe I did not give you permission to leave.” 

Rage swirled in his stomach upon hearing Vader’s statement; an angry scream emerged from his throat as he was reminded that this was _his father_ who was calmly mutilating him.

“ _ I don’t care about your permission! _ ” he seethed. 

There was a kick to his stomach at those words, quickly followed by a strong punch. He curled against the floor, futilely trying to protect his body, only to be rolled over onto his back. A heavy boot was pressed to his chest as his father pinned him to the floor and he coughed, a splatter of blood leaving his mouth. 

“Do not test my patience, boy,” Vader seethed. “Or you will not like the consequences.” 

Luke stayed silent, this time. There was no point talking back; his father would only punish him more, and he would not achieve anything. 

Vaguely, he felt Vader take hold of his arms and throw on the sleeping platform. He lay there limply, limbs tangled and useless, his cheek pressed against the cold metal. There was a brief pause throughout which he simply tried to breathe; for a moment, he forgot about Vader and the interrogation, too focused on easing the pain in his agonized body to think about anything else. 

There was movement beside him - steps, a swish of cloak - and then Vader stood above him, towering over his small form like a hawk. 

“Let’s try again,” the Dark Lord said. Luke heard him, but the voice was muffled and unclear, almost as if the world was behind thick glass. His mind was numb and fuzzy, and he felt as if he was going to pass out. It wasn’t solely due to his agony, though - it was also his mind that was slowly destroying him. With each heartbeat, with each throb of pain from his wounds, he became more and more confused, more trapped and disoriented, unable to escape his painful memories. 

“Where is the rebel base?” His father demanded, but although Luke registered the sound, he didn’t know what it meant. 

“ _ Luke _ .” 

This, he heard. His name was clearer, somehow, easier to understand, and he raised his eyes, looking up at the dark blur that was his father. His confused brain gave him a brief respite and a wave of awareness passed through him, bringing him focus. 

“...wh...what…” he slurred, confused. Everything was twisted now, and he was feeling more and more detached from reality. There was fear in that, the painful anticipation of the place he would go to if he passed out, the nightmarish dream world that he would face. 

“ _ Give me the location of your base. _ ”

“...n-no…” he whispered, resisting the tendrils of unconsciousness that were pulling at him.  _ Please _ , he thought, his body jerking,  _ please don’t make me go to sleep, please don’t make me see them... _

“You will answer my questions.” It was a statement, not a request; a brutal demand. 

“...no…”

“Who was with you on Naboo?”

“...won’t...say…”

There was a blow to his stomach and he moaned quietly, too confused and detached to do anything else. 

“Give me the names of those rebels  _ now _ .”

“...they’re...just...frie...nds…” he gasped out. It wasn’t a lie, and it wasn’t defiant. In fact, Luke’s disoriented brain was sure he was giving his father the answers he wanted. 

“ _ What _ friends?” 

“...from...the...Alliance…”

Another punch, this time to his face, and a splatter of blood leaving his mouth.

“You know that’s not what I asked.”

“...it’s...true…” he whispered, confused, trying to find a position that would ease his pain. 

“Why did you destroy the Theed Royal Palace?” 

_ No, please, not that question again… _

“Why, Luke?”

_ Please, don’t, please… _

“...don’t...know…”

“Why did you destroy it?”

_ Can’t tell, won’t speak… _

_ Can’t get them out of my head, they’re all here, all dead… _

_ Dead, dead! _

_ “ _ Stop!” he cried, he sobbed, but Vader didn’t listen, instead crouching down before him and painfully grasping his shoulder. 

“Answer me, Luke.”

“...no…”

A wave of anger at his defiance, the grip on his shoulder tightening. 

“You deserve this,” Vader taunted him and Luke shook his head, fresh tears filling his eyes. 

“Savor the pain, Luke. They were in agony, just as you are now. They felt what you feel.  _ Feel it. _ ”

“...no…” he sobbed, trying to deny his father’s words. Images started playing before his eyes, the little girl among the rubble, the blood falling from the sky. 

“You fired the shot, Luke,” Vader continued, hissing those cursed words right into his ear as he lay beneath his father in a useless, weak hip, desperately trying to deny what he already knew was true. “You’ve killed them all. They’re dead because of  _ you _ .”

“...stop…” he pleaded. “...not...true…”

But it was true. It was true and he knew it, and he was a monster, and he deserved to die…-

“ _ Yes _ ,” his father said again, prolonging the ‘s’ and making the sound drill into his skull. “You deserve the pain. You deserve to suffer for what you have done.”

He was shivering now, unable to resist his father’s torment. There was no escape from his guilt, no escape from what he had done. 

“Why did you destroy the Theed Royal Palace, Luke?”

Another sob left him and his arm flailed, desperate for comfort and looking for anything,  _ anything  _ to hold on to. 

He found Vader’s arm. 

His fingers curled around it and he held onto it for dear life, pouring all his guilt and self-hatred into that grip, clinging to his father as if this was the only thing he knew. His bruised hands felt the machinery’s warmth and interpreted it as comfort; the sound of the respirator suddenly turned into soothing whispers to calm him down. 

There was tugging at his jacket, an attempt to pull him away, but he refused to back up; he simply clung to his father’s hand with all his force, unable to give up the false sense of protection it gave him. 

“ _ Let go, _ ” the voice seethed and Luke shook his head in silent denial. The gloved hand tugged again and he cried out as his fingers were pried off and his body was pulled away. 

“Answer my questions. Why did you destroy the Palace?”

_ The Palace, destroyed the Palace, guilty, so guilty… _

“Luke.”

A laugh was ripped from his throat and left his lips with a smile. “...no Jedi…”

“What?” the grip on his back tightened, but he ignored it, suddenly filled with amusement and unable to control his laughter. 

“.....I’m...no...Jedi...I...killed…” 

There was annoyance now - annoyance and anger rolling off the Dark Lord, stronger than before. “Focus, boy, and answer my question.”

But he didn’t remember the question anymore. Everything was funny now - the lights, the mask, the pain in his thighs. All of it was a mere set of meaningless concepts, merged together into an incomprehensible blur. 

He giggled as another memory appeared in his mind. “...three...Alliance...ships and not...one…”

There was confusion in Vader’s voice as he repeated his question - confusion and a spark of concern, although that one was quickly gone. Luke didn’t get to hear his father’s demand - his numb brain had filtered it out even before he registered it. His limbs were heavy now, almost as if they were made out of steel. He tried to move them but found he couldn’t, and yet he felt no more than surprised upon that discovery. 

_ “Focus,”  _ the baritone voice said, but Luke barely heard it. His mind was somewhere else now, numb and detached from his body and the painful memories of Naboo. There was no Vader anymore, no prison cell and no interrogation. He was just floating, drifting above all his worries, no longer aware of the body that was becoming more and more rigid. 

It was why he felt no more than a tingle when a tremor ran through him, an uncontrolled spasm that caused his body to flail aimlessly on the cell’s bench. 

It was why he did not feel fear when white foam filled his mouth before his body started convulsing violently, his head hitting the metal beneath him despite Vader’s restraining hand. 

But there was a scream, then; the scream of the girl among the rubble, her sharp image filling his mind and cutting through it like a knife. He gasped, cried out, awareness returning to him along with his memories and the physical sensations in his body. He kept convulsing as his brain bombarded him with brutal emotions of guilt and regret, pushing him farther and farther into the void of nothingness. 

The last thing he remembered before he passed out was his father's restraining hand tightening around his arm. 


	7. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke wakes up from his seizure to the still nightmerish reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy! A new chaper is up! I'm not done with the descriptions of violence yet, so again, I'm putting up a trigger warning and just... bear with me;)
> 
> Anyway, have fun reading this chapter!

_ Big, glassy eyes staring at him-- _

_ Tears falling down the puffy little cheeks as the girl screams-- _

_ "You've killed her! It's your fault!" _

_ "You know what it's like to lose your family!" _

_ "You did this to me!" _

_ More shouts, more screams, blood everywhere-- _

_ His own reflection suddenly replacing the girl's face, his furious eyes staring back at him--- _

_ "You deserve to die! DIE!"  _

_ DIE! _

And suddenly, his eyes flashed open, and he was awake and in pain. He could see nothing yet - the world was only white, blurred, and impossible to understand…

And then there was liquid on his chin, and a splatter of thick foam leaving his throat with a cough. He choked, gagged, desperate to breathe, but everything felt clogged and swollen. His head lolled to the side, not supported by his muscles, and something -  _ a gloved hand?  _ \- caught it and turned it back to its previous position. It was a bit easier to breathe now, although it was still erratic, still shallow, and he struggled desperately to catch air into his starving lungs. 

Slowly, images and sounds started coming back to him. There was a blurred outline of…  _ someone  _ above him, and then another figure, dressed in white. He blinked furiously, trying to focus on those vague shapes, but everything still looked hazy and blurred. Panicked and desperate to understand what was happening, he kicked his arms and legs, trying to move, trying to breathe--

“Hold him still, My Lord.”

He froze.  _ My lord.  _

_ No, please, not again…  _

The image before his eyes sharpened, but he didn't need to see in order to know who exactly was holding him.

Vader.

His father. 

His body was lying splayed on the floor,  _ still in the cell,  _ held by Vader and restrained so that he couldn't move. There was another man as well - someone dressed in white. A medic. There was something in his hand, Luke realized, something sharp.  _ A syringe? _

Again, he moved, tried to get away. His mind was still confused, though, and his moves were slow and sluggish. He didn't even manage to raise his arm before Vader caught it in a durasteel grip. 

" _ Hold still. _ "

He flinched at the sound of the baritone voice, his head immediately turning away from his father, only to be forced back to its previous position. He looked up at that, pain and confusion in his eyes, but there was no explanation from Vader as Luke desperately tried to understand  _ anything.  _

As he became more and more aware of his body, he noticed the sweat that his clothes were drenched in. He shivered, suddenly feeling cold, and his father's restraining hand pressed down harder, successfully immobilizing him. 

"...wh...at..."' he slurred as the man - the medic - crouched next to him and fitted something that felt like an elastic band around his left arm. Cold fingers were pressed to the crook of Luke's elbow as the man felt for the veins underneath. 

"...no…" he mumbled again, still not understanding what was happening; he didn't know why he was lying on the floor, why Vader was holding him, why he was in pain. The past, the present - all were blurred, dark, and vague; Luke felt as if something horrible had happened, but had absolutely no idea what it was. 

“I will try the other arm,” the medic informed. There was movement around him and Luke closed his eyes, head spinning. He vaguely felt his father switch his hold on him and grab him from the other side, turning his body around. 

A sharp cry was ripped from his throat as the movement jostled at his left leg. 

There was something wrong with it, it was hurting, it was--

Stabbed. Wounded. 

His father had burned him with his lightsaber. 

Memories suddenly rushed back to him like a tidal wave - the questioning, the torture, the seizure that made him lose consciousness at the end. His father’s taunts and the images before his eyes, the baritone voice reminding him of what he had done while he sunk deeper and deeper into a nightmarish world of his guilt and regret. 

Blind panic entered his mind as he realized that Vader had tortured him, and now Vader was holding him, and there was nothing he could do but squirm uselessly and try to get away--

" _ Cease your struggles  _ **_now_ ** _." _

He froze at that, terrified because  _ this was what his father had sounded like when he hurt him… -  _

This moment of hesitation was enough. 

There was a sudden pinch and immediately, he turned his head around, realizing too late that the medic had inserted a needle into his right arm. He stared at it numbly, trying to guess the syringe's contents, before his eyes widened in fear in sudden understanding. 

The stimulant. 

Vader had asked for a stimulant before the interrogation; that liquid that was injected into his veins, the substance that was spreading through his blood system this very moment, was a stimulant. 

For more questioning. 

He'd never felt greater terror than that. His heart raced and all he could see was white; his movements were wild as he tore his body from his father's hold. 

There was momentary relief, a quick rush of euphoria as he rolled to the side, finally free of the unyielding grip. Determination filled his eyes as he started crawling away, desperate to escape, because he couldn't face another round of questioning, couldn't think of Naboo again… 

There was a brutal push and his body was suddenly pinned underneath Vader, gloved hands on both of his arms. 

“ _ Insolent boy! _ ” his father growled, mask inches from his face, hovering over his body like a scavenger over its prey. “There is no escape from this! You will stop moving now, or you will suffer more than you ever thought possible-"

He blinked, wide eyes staring right into Vader's masked ones, and suddenly he couldn't see his father anymore. Everything became blurry and hazy; it was a while before it sharpened again, presenting an image that terrified Luke's already horror-filled mind. 

For there was no Vader anymore - it was a female face that replaced him now. It was kind and gentle; beautiful yet sad, and Luke knew it wasn't true, knew it was his confused, guilt-filled brain tricking him, but he just couldn't help but cry out--

"Mother!" 

There was silence, and a surge of terrible,  _ terrible  _ anger--

And then a brutal backhand to his face, knocking his breath out and splitting his cheek. 

"No! " -- someone,  _ the medic _ , cried out-- "He's suffered a concussion, you can't---" 

But the doctor's voice died as he was suddenly hit again, and again, until there was nothing but pain in his mind. There was a noise - a terrible, baritone voice screaming at him, growling demands -  _ you will not speak of her… mother… learn to obey…  _ \- but he could understand nothing, could do nothing as his father landed hit after hit and punch after punch. 

Eventually, it stopped. He lay there on the floor, in his own blood, dizzy and almost unconscious from the pain. His head hurt so much he couldn't breathe - it was just pain. The world, the big, wide universe, was constructed of nothing but pain.

There were voices around him, angry orders and desperate pleadings, discussions, futile reasoning. Then, everything quietened, reaching a silent agreement. Finally, a faint voice spoke to him as though through a fog. 

"Luke…"

A hand appeared on his chest at the same time. It wasn't Vader's - the touch was too gentle, too delicate to belong to his father. The medic, then. 

"Luke, can you hear me?" The voice repeated and he forced his eyes open, tried desperately to get a sound out of his dried throat. 

"...nghhhh…"

"Easy," The medic said. "Focus on your breathing." 

He complied, getting a shallow breath into his lungs, only to exhale with a cough. 

"...hurts…" he whispered as another clot of foam got stuck in his throat. He choked, gagged, and instantly felt his body being turned to the side by the doctor. 

“Breathe, Luke," the medic repeated gently. "You will be moved to a medical facility soon-...”

“No,” another voice suddenly said - a baritone one. His father. “Skywalker is to be further questioned.”

"My lord, he's had a seizure and suffered from a concussion, minimal medical care is--"

" _ Leave. _ "

The medic's hands froze, one palm still pressed to Luke's body. He was trembling, Luke realized, but that was expected. The man was defying Vader, after all, going against his orders and  _ arguing  _ with the Dark Lord.

A wave of gratefulness passed through Luke as he realized that the medic  _ cared  _ for him, tried to simply fulfill his purpose of helping those who were injured. He was risking his life trying to get medical attention to a  _ prisoner _ , an enemy of the Empire, even though he knew what happened to those who defied the Dark Lord.

But then, disgust filled Luke - disgust and hatred at his own self, because he understood that once again, someone would suffer because of him. The medic would certainly be punished, maybe even killed for simply trying to help him, and it would be yet another death that Luke would have on his hands. 

_ You deserve to die, Luke, to die! _

_ You've killed them.  _

"My Lord?" The medic questioned, uncertain and debating whether he should relent or keep fighting for the prisoner to get medical care. Luke wished that the man would just give up, leave him with Vader and save his own life, because he wouldn't be able to stand seeing another person killed because of him…

"You will leave now, medic, and Skywalker will stay here. He is not to receive medical attention until he answers the questions I ask."

_ Please _ , Luke though as the doctor silently tried to decide what to do.  _ Please, listen to Vader and go… _

"I cannot do that, My Lord."

_ Shit! _

_ " _ It is against the medical code to deny help to those who are critically injured, and I believe that this boy is in immediate need of--"

The doctor's voice was cut off as Vader seized his throat with the Force and crushed it, snapping his neck like a twig. The man's lifeless body fell to the floor, right beside Luke, and he could only stare at it with wide eyes, slowly understanding what had just happened. 

The medic died because he was trying to help Luke. 

Yet another death that was his fault. 

And this was enough. He remembered nothing of what happened later. His guilt consumed him and he drowned in regret and self-hatred, disappearing from the physical world. Vader had questioned him, but his memory was gone. Had he complied? Had he fought back? Nothing felt real anymore; there were no images, no sounds that his brain could identify. He was empty, numb and hopeless, stripped of his own identity. 

Because who could he be anymore? 

A Jedi? Impossible, he'd killed too many to be one. 

A rebel? Absurd, he'd oppressed too many to stay in the Alliance. 

So maybe a son, then? Luke Skywalker, a hero desperate to make his father proud?

But that was the most ridiculous idea of all, for he had no father anymore. His father, his  _ real  _ father, was dead, killed, and replaced with the monster who was now ruthlessly torturing him. 

There was nothing left in his life to fight for, nothing to do but to sink deeper and deeper into this destructive state of self-hatred and guilt. 

He would continue to protect the Alliance, of course - he could cause no more harm. But he no longer cared what would happen to him, whether he lived or died. 

Luke Skywalker was lost, and there was only one person left that could find him. 


	8. The Emptiness On His Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader contemplates Luke

It had been a long time since his son had seen the sky. 

It was a cruel act - to entrap a  _ Skywalker _ in a dark cell with nothing but a heavy ceiling above his head; to confine his great existence in this pathetically small space. There were no stars for Luke to see - only the greyness of the walls around him, the scrunched-up faces of his interrogators, and the scarlet of his own blood slowly trickling down the walls and creating small, ruby pools on the floor. 

Vader knew it was brutal. His son had been trapped in his cell for days now; questioned remorselessly by his father and offered no respite. Sometimes, he was left alone - abandoned by Vader or his other interrogators, lying motionlessly in his own blood. Those fleeting moments never offered Luke relief, though - the Sith knew his son could never rest, could never sleep in the darkness of his cell. The boy was haunted by his own mind, tortured by his exhausted brain with his own memories and guilt. His remorse and self-accusation could never leave; Vader would often sense Luke simply lying restlessly, trying to fight the images that his own mind thrust upon him. 

He’d caused his son great pain. 

But it was necessary. He had to crush him, to make him  _ weak _ \- and then, Luke would lose, and allow himself to be destroyed by his own guilt. 

And of all people, Vader knew  _ exactly _ how powerful guilt could be. 

His son would have nowhere to go to - just as  _ Anakin _ had in the past. There would be only regret, self-hatred and rage. A chaos in his mind, a complete lack of order - nothing but a wrecking, ravaging turmoil. And then Vader would emerge - Vader,  _ his father  _ \- the only source of stability Luke would be able to find. The Sith would offer him comfort and power; would show his son that only through the acceptance of his own guilt and rage could he move on. Luke would believe him, and he would obey him - would blindly offer him eternal allegiance for the sole sense of strength that his father would give him. 

And yet, Luke felt no anger - it was _Vader_ who was constantly enraged. He could not stand - _could not accept_ \- the way his son resisted him. Every time the boy refused to answer, every time he ignored and disobeyed him, Vader _craved_ hurting him and squeezing his life out of him. He would fantasize about it, imagine as he beat Luke up, that every punch was a death blow, that every drop of blood that his son lost was a punishment for his disobedience. He would often give into his blind rage, hurt Luke again and again, mutilating him endlessly with no regret. At those times, he didn’t notice the agonized cries, the eyes drunk with pain - it was only his power that mattered then. He would feel Luke’s clammy skin dent under his fist, and he would feel the slight tremors passing through the boy’s feeble body. He would feel all of this and it _thrilled_ him, because it was the proof that his son was suffering and hurting. 

Paying for his disobedience. 

Learning respect. 

_ Just as she should have had.  _

So it was necessary - or at least that’s what he would tell himself, what he so desperately wanted to believe. Luke had to suffer and he had to obey him, because that was his duty, because the boy was  **_his_ ** _. _

_ You belong to me,  _ he had once told him.  _ I am your master. You have nobody else.  _

But it wasn’t long before Vader realized he had failed his duty. 

**Had failed his duty as a father.**

It all started a few days after Luke’s first seizure. That day, the doctor said that it couldn’t be left untreated, and Vader had ignored him and killed him. The boy had been…  _ alright _ , for a few days - there was no visible aftermath of his sudden convulsions. But then, complications began. Luke was unable to concentrate, his speech was slurred and unorganized, and his eyes had trouble focusing on his masked face. He would lose consciousness in the middle of questioning, despite being injected with stimulants, and would often dissociate and become unresponsive. 

And still, Vader ignored it. Angered by his son’s lack of compliance, defiant or not, he had beaten the boy again and again, waiting for him to give in and answer all his father’s questions. Luke listened to him but stayed silent; accepted every beating, every pain he received, but never spilled his secrets. The boy allowed himself to be tortured, feeling like this was what he deserved, and still he refused to give any information and hurt more people than he already had. 

His son felt… empty. 

Vader tried to ignore it, and yet he couldn’t help but think that Luke Skywalker was  _ gone _ . 

The boy’s condition had soon worsened, along with his mental one, and after a few days, a second seizure came. Vader had relented, then, and allowed his son to be taken into medical care. He had been right to do so - it turned out the boy had suffered a brain injury during his first fit. It was internal bleeding, furthered by the brutal beating that Luke had later received from his father. 

_ It was necessary _ , he would tell himself.  _ He spoke of  _ **_her_ ** _ , he needed to be punished.  _

And yet it was…  _ unsettling  _ to see his child in such a state. He’d been watching him lie in the medical bay for hours, his slight body splayed on the cot, numerous IVs dripping into his bloodstream. He’d intended to go back to heavy interrogation as soon as the boy could leave the bed, at first, but… he didn’t. His son was tired and exhausted, unable to even look at his father properly when he had first regained his consciousness in the medical bay. 

_ He walks into the white room, his child lying on the bed. He looks tired and numb, eyes half-closed as he tries to focus on Vader’s menacing figure.  _

_ “You’re awake,” he says emotionlessly, although there’s relief at the back of his mind. His son looks miserable, but he’s also alive, and Vader has to admit he’d feared another outcome when the boy had convulsed last time. _

_ Luke doesn’t reply. His emotionless gaze regards him numbly and then slips to the side.  _

_ Vader’s anger swells at this open display of ignorance.“You have been allowed to rest,” he informs the boy, enraged by his lack of response.  _

_ But his son stays silent, not uttering a word.  _

_ And Vader explodes.  _

_ “There will be no relief once you’re released!” He booms. “You will suffer, and I will offer you no mercy. You will be given  _ **_nothing_ ** _ until you obey!” _

_ He expects fear from his son; he finds nore. The boy is not scared or terrified by his words. There’s simply that blank, empty gaze, not even looking at him, and Vader’s  _ **_furious._ **

_ “Do not ignore me boy!” he shouts. “You have no idea what’s in store for you!”  _

_ And finally, those blue eyes turn back.  _

_ “Yes.” The boy whispers dully. “I know.” _

It was this behavior that haunted Vader. Haunted and  _ distressed  _ him, for Luke seemed… depressed. His son, this empty shell of a boy, had expressed no emotions ever since Vader had killed the medic. Was this what he wanted for his child? When he’d first started interrogating him, his goal was to crush his son, make him fight against his guilt and lose, force him to obey his father because he would have no-one else to turn to. 

But this? This wasn’t what he’d intended. His son’s spirit wasn’t crushed - it was  _ dead,  _ gone, drowned in the deep sea of guilt and regret. 

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. His son was meant to obey him, understand that he had no other option than to respect his father. They were supposed to train together, to kill the Emperor and then rule the galaxy as father and son. It was their destiny.

But every time he looked at the still body lying in the medical bay, he only saw a broken, hopeless boy with nothing left to fight for in his life. 

_ “Tell me where the Rebels are!” _

_ His son lies on the floor, emptiness in his gaze. There’s blood around him and soaking his clothes, and Vader can’t shake the feeling that the boy looks as if he was already dead. There is no response from him - not even a flinch as the Sith ruthlessly questions him. No fear, no defiance - there’s nothing. Only emptiness and pain, and besides that there’s  _ **_nothing._ **

Vader knew he could not care about the boy; could feel no sympathy towards his child’s suffering. 

But it was impossible. 

He could hurt Luke, could beat him down and interrogate him - those actions were of anger and hate, and came to Vader easily. 

But the guilt his son felt? It was unbearable. 

He could feel it even now, even while the boy was asleep. The aura of guilt was still emanating from him, even though his face looked relaxed.  _ Relaxed and… empty _ , Vader thought as he noticed the depressed expression that his son bore. There was pain etched on his features, and then, there were his lips - bruised and slightly parted, almost as if his son was gasping for air, and he can’t help but think of…--

_...Anakin, you’re breaking my heart! _

_ You’re going down the path I can’t follow! _

No. He  _ would not _ think about it. It was  _ her _ fault. She shouldn’t have angered him, she  _ knew _ he was right!

_ Obi Wan is trying to turn you against me. Don’t you turn against me! _

_ He cares about us! _

**_Us?_ **

She’d been wrong.  _ Padme _ had been wrong. Obi Wan didn’t care, and the Jedi were weak, and it wasn’t his fault…-

**It seems, in your anger, you killed her.**

No. No, he didn’t! He did not!

**I? I couldn’t have!**

**You have. Admit it. Admit that you have!**

**You have squeezed her throat and watched her suffer!**

**You have seen her plead for you to stop!**

...I didn’t, I never did...

**You have killed her!**

...No, stop--

**You know it’s true, Anakin!**

**You know she’s dead!**

**Dead, Anakin!**

**DEAD!**

Dead. His wife was dead. 

Luke was suffering from guilt, and Vader was no stranger to it, because his wife was dead. 

Years ago, he had done the same thing. He had killed all the Jedi; had lost Obi-Wan - not only his master, but also his  _ brother;  _ had killed his wife and, until recently, he had been sure his unborn child had died with her as well. 

The guilt had never left; it was with him every day for twenty years, always at the back of his mind, always there. He was empty, too, in a way - just like his son. He had no real purpose, other than the blind need to obey his master, but what kind of goal was that? It was nothing. Just an artificially created purpose so that he could keep on existing, even though his real self had died twenty years ago.

Yes, he knew guilt; he knew it was unbearable and worse than pain. 

Something he never wished his son to experience. 

No, he decided as he looked at his child’s sleeping form in the medical bay for the umpteenth time that day. His son would not suffer the same fate his father did. It was easy, suddenly, so easy to understand. He didn’t need Luke to tell him why he had destroyed the Palace, didn’t need the boy to obey him. What mattered was that his son -  _ their son  _ \- was safe, happy, and _ here _ . He needed to see Luke - not that empty shell of a boy, but  _ Luke _ , his only son, the child he had destroyed. It was Vader’s duty to help him, to bring his back from this awful, nightmarish place he had trapped himself in. 

That was what she would have wanted. 

_ And what Anakin would have wanted as well.  _

Vader would learn to protect Luke; he would give his son the comfort he so desperately needed. He would find his son’s spirit that was gone. 

It was time. 

He left the medical bay with the feeling of sudden urgency to fulfill his plan. For the first time in years, he felt  _ joy _ , excitment at the very idea that he would protect his son. No more questions, no more pain. He’d felt guilt for years, because he’d killed her. 

He couldn’t kill his son as well. 

He entered his chambers, still  _ thrilled  _ by his sudden decision. This thing that he was doing, this thing was  _ good.  _ He would help his son and he would save him. It was necessary, and his son would be happy, and maybe…

...just maybe…

...his own guilt would disappear with Luke’s as well. 

He understood it, now. Understood that they were in this together. Both father and son, haunted by their actions and their past, but both not yet dead. 

Both ready to be saved. 

There was a smile on his scarred lips as he sat in his meditation chamber, the image of Luke never disappearing from his mind. He thought about him even as he closed his eyes, even as he emerged into a deep state of focus and connection with the Force. There was nothing else in his mind - nothing but Luke, his  _ son _ that would never feel pain again. 

But Vader didn’t know he was wrong. 

Didn’t know Luke Skywalker was about to wake up in the medical bay and make a decision that could cost him his life.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I’m sorry it took me so long to update, but I was constantly rewriting it cause I didn’t like the way it looked hahahah
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it!


	9. The Last Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke wakes up in the medical bay and decides to escape. Things go south from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... chapter nine is here! It's slightly longer than the rest, and I hope you enjoy that one!
> 
> Also, I'm putting a trigger warning for suicidal ideation. Be prepared for a lot of angst!
> 
> Happy reading!

He couldn’t look away. 

His eyes had been fixed on the white ceiling above him for some time now. There was nothing intriguing about it, nothing remotely interesting about the simple mosaic of light panels before his eyes. And yet, he couldn’t tear his gaze away, almost as if the calm, white color was absorbing him and refusing to let him go. 

He didn’t want to look away - at least, not for now. He didn’t want to see the medical bay he was in, the various instruments that he was connected to. His eyes were stubbornly avoiding the heavy white doors opposite his bed, almost expecting the terrifying bulk of his father to walk through them any moment. 

His father had visited him here - had visited him  _ once _ . Luke couldn’t remember much of their conversation, his brain too fuzzy to recall any specific moments. He did, however, remember the immense sense of emptiness he felt - the emptiness that was with him even now - and the terrible anger radiating from his father as Luke stubbornly refused to react to his provocations. 

Luke knew what was awaiting him - and even if he didn’t, Vader was all too happy to remind him of his fate. His father had promised him nothing but pain and suffering, a complete lack of mercy until he would comply. Luke knew he should be scared - even now he could easily recall the agony of Vader’s interrogation - but for some reason, he simply couldn’t bring himself to  _ care _ . 

Nothing mattered anymore. 

Everything felt blank,  _ empty _ . Was he dead? He certainly felt that way - felt as if his soul had perished the moment Vader had killed the medic because of  _ him,  _ because it was his fault. Or maybe it had happened even earlier? Maybe he had died the moment he fired that lethal shot and destroyed the Palace? It was possible - surely it was. He could have been just lying to himself afterward, pretending he had a purpose when in reality his spirit was gone. 

He felt dead. 

There was nothing left in his life. 

He’d been lying here alone for so long now - even the medical droids had stopped visiting him. Was this a punishment, or was it a standard procedure? Was Vader giving him time to heal - to _ rest?  _ Or was it just a trick, just an elaborate plan created by his father? 

And did it even matter anymore? He was  _ almost  _ dead anyway - he didn't care. Vader could do whatever he wanted to him, as long as his friends were safe. There was nothing else Luke deserved. 

Slowly, he pulled his eyes away from the ceiling, already missing the soothing white image. Groggily, he looked around, returning his attention back to his body. His skin felt sticky, hot, and clammy, and he was sure his clothes were drenched in sweat. When he was first transported into the medical bay -  _ and why Vader had even allowed that, Luke did not know _ \- the droids would take care of such things. They would change his clothes and the thin, damp sheets. Their emotionless, robotic arms would give him more comfort than he ever deserved, and yet Luke had happily accepted it at first, desperate for every notion of relief that he could get. 

But the more he healed, the more aware he had become, and the more his brain would gradually fill with unyielding disgust. 

Luke hated himself. He hated the man he had become, the man he had sworn not to be. He had tried so hard, and yet he had failed - had killed people, struck in selflessness, and hurt those who were innocent. He deserved to suffer. 

But his friends - and the rest of the  _ Alliance  _ \- didn’t. 

A cool wave of awareness spread through his body as he suddenly realized that his friends were in danger. He was healing quickly now; he would be released from the medical bay any moment - and that only meant one thing -  _ torture.  _

Could he really resist this time? Could he really keep his friends safe? 

How long could he endure before his father transformed him into the worst version of himself?

He had to escape. Scratch what he deserved - he would deal with himself later. Now it was important to get away - to avoid interrogation and the possibility of spilling his friends’ secrets. 

Now was his only chance. Of course, he had been awake in the med-bay for some time now, but everything had been fuzzy then. Now, the world was clear.  _ Sharp _ , even, as suddenly he could sense everything around him. The Force was with him, giving him focus and strength. 

He had to get away. 

Before Vader showed up. 

Slowly, he looked at his left wrist, noticing the IV needle disappearing under his skin. His fingers wrapped around it and he pulled, freeing himself from the drip and the drugs that were surely flowing into his veins. Cautiously, he pulled himself up, fighting the wave of nausea that threatened him to throw up - most likely the result of the head injury he had sustained. Slowly, he pulled his covers up. His legs looked…  _ fine.  _ Sure, there was a scar left by his father’s saber burn, but it looked like he would be able to stand on his own. Gently, he put one foot on the floor and tested it; there was no pain for now. He put his second leg underneath him and stood up, supporting himself with the chair next to the cot. 

Then, carefully, he reached towards his father’s presence, praying that the Sith would not notice. Vader’s mind was calm - peaceful, even - and Luke realized that his father was deeply immersed in meditation.  _ Good,  _ Luke thought. It would be easier not to get caught now. 

Stumbling forward, he slowly made his way to the medical bay’s door, pausing to snatch a scalpel from a table. It wouldn’t have much use against the blasters that the guards on the corridors would surely have, but he didn’t like the idea of going out weaponless. Slowly, he pushed the door forward, exiting the room. His father’s presence did not change - he was still deeply immersed in meditation, and Luke hoped it would stay that way until he managed to escape. 

He entered the hallway. To his surprise, it was white - a color that he had not seen on the Executor before, save for the inside of the medical bay. What bewildered him even more, however, was that no guards awaited him. There was no one in the corridor - not a single soul. Everything was quiet, too - was this a trap? Why would his father make it so easy to escape? Why was there no one to stop him?

No time - he had  _ no time _ . He had to go now, go before Vader would sense him get away. 

Quickly, he started marching down the hallway, ignoring the ache in his limbs, and slowly making his way to where he suspected the ship’s hangar bay to be. 

It was hard, though. He hadn’t walked for some time now - hadn’t really stood much either. His breathing was already ragged, and his legs were threatening to give out. Unable to stop himself, he leaned against a wall, giving himself a moment to breathe. He raised his eyes, trying to get a better sense of his surroundings, and his eyes briefly skimmed over a viewport before him.

_ Wait… _

_ There was… _

There was land behind the glass. 

They weren’t in space; they were on the  **_ground_ ** _.  _

_ But how? _

_ How hadn’t he noticed that before? _

Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t feel the buzz of the engines underneath his feet - something that was constantly present when he was on the Executor. How was this even possible - why hadn’t he realized that before? He couldn’t feel the engines - he couldn’t feel them because he wasn’t on a ship - he was on a planet! For this whole time, when he was lying in the medical bay, he wasn’t up in space, but here! 

But why had his father transported him here? 

Luke didn’t know the answer to that - it made no sense. It was unlikely he would be able to escape from the Executor - the troopers and officers stationed there were trained to prevent any attempts. It would be a miracle if he even managed to get to the hangar bay, especially in his current state - and even then, he would probably be caught once in space. 

Or worse, shot down. Killed on his father’s orders. 

But then again, that was what he deserved. 

And yet, he was here - on a planet, on the  _ ground _ . If he was in a facility, then he could just get out - get out and run - so why had Vader put him  _ here _ ?

He reached out again, still feeling his father deep in meditation. There were other people he could sense now - probably the medical staff - but there were so few of them and they were so far away…

_ This could work _ , he thought.  _ Maybe I really will escape. _

And suddenly, there was an exit before him - simple, heavy doors, protected with nothing by a lock. It was too easy - was this a trap? But no, there was no sense of danger in the Force - so why? 

He reached out with his hand and gathered the Force around the lock, breaking it. Then, with a slight push, he opened the door. 

Bright, golden light filled his vision as he stepped outside. Warm rays of sun played on his skin as he raised his chin, trying to see past the bright glow. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light and a vague image of his surroundings appeared before his eyes. It was beautiful - there was grass underneath his feet, covered with vibrant, yellow flowers. The sky was clear and bright blue, shrouded with small, white clouds. It was warm, and yet it was pleasant - so pleasant that for a moment, Luke simply stood there and basked in the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air that he had so desperately missed. This planet was  _ special _ , filling his body with buzzing energy. It was almost drawing him in, as if he was a natural part of it, because this was…-

**No.**

**_No, no, no!_ **

_ This place… it couldn’t be, please, no more... _

He knew that planet, he’d been here before, this world was…

**...Naboo.**

His father had him treated in a medical center on Naboo. 

Icy fear spread through him, his breath hitched in his chest. This was impossible, this couldn’t be - his father couldn’t be that cruel, his father couldn’t have brought him here! 

But his confusion didn’t last long - it was just a moment, a fleeting train of thought. It didn’t last long, for there was something more important in his mind - something that had always been there, something that so desperately wanted to get out...

**_I’m a murderer._ **

**I’ve killed them, they’re dead.**

**This is my hell.**

It was true - he could feel that now. The beautiful tranquility of the planet was suddenly replaced by endless screams of the people he’d killed, filling his mind and not stopping, bleeding through his ears, bleeding through his nose. He was not welcome here - he was an intruder, a criminal, he didn’t fit here, he had to go, he had to get away now! And yet, he was frozen in place, numb and yet in excruciating pain. The ground shook with the echo of the crime  _ he had committed,  _ the destruction that he had caused simply because his selfishness and the need for revenge took over his actions when he fired the shot. 

_ How _ could he?

**For Force’s sake, how** **could he have lost control like that?!**

A wild scream emerged from Luke’s throat. It was a guttural sound of pain and regret; a wish for it all to be taken back. It was anger and it was pain; regret layered upon rage, guilt fighting against longing. His turmoil was so strong he couldn’t even breathe anymore. He could only think of what he had done, of all the innocent lives he had taken.

_ You’ve killed them, Luke, you've killed them! _

_ I had to, it was my mother!  _

_ But they’re dead, they’re dead because of you! _

_ Father, please, who’s dead? _

And those cruel words:

_ “You have killed everyone present in the palace.” _

Was it even true? After all, how could Vader know? How many people were inside anyway? Three hundred? Three thousand? 

**_It didn’t matter, there could even be one, because he killed, HE KILLED THEM ALL!_ **

Fury exploded, guilt and regret burned, spirit shattered as he suddenly shot forward, running through the fields of Naboo in blind rage. 

**_You did this, you did this, you did this…_ **

He ran, fell, sprinted through the grass with desperation and yet numb; bushes scraped at his bare feet and calves. His legs stung - was there blood? Was there not, was he even there?

_ Faster, faster! _

**_“I hate you!”_ ** he screamed at himself suddenly, still running, never tired, never stopping. There was wind tugging at him, scarlet blood falling down his legs and he didn’t even care; he just ran, and it was still too slow, he had to go faster…

“ **You did this!** ” he screamed again. “ **You’ve killed those people, Skywalker! You are weak! You’re krething worthless, do you hear me?! WORTHLESS!** ”

He was crying openly now, tears of rage and guilt falling down his red cheeks, but he didn't care, it didn’t matter. His feet carried him faster than he’d ever moved, and he just ran, desperate to escape from his guilt and helpless rage. The Force was lost to him - he couldn’t feel it anymore, couldn’t feel anything at all… nothing mattered, nothing mattered! Nothing except the desperate need to get away from  _ himself _ … to leave his own mind…- 

**My father was right to abandon me!**

**My father should have killed me when he got the chance because I’m a monster!**

**Monster!**

**I DESERVE TO DIE!**

The world stopped. 

He could… he could  _ die.  _

He could just leave this all behind and... take his own life. 

There was a precipice in front of him, he could just…

Jump. 

**He could just jump.**

Jump like he did on Bespin and  _ die _ . 

_ But what about Leia? What about Han? _

Nothing! It would mean nothing to them! They wouldn’t miss him if he died because he was a monster! They surely knew that, they surely hated him now!

_ But Obi-Wan, but Yoda, they all believed in you, believed that you would become a Jedi! _

_ But I can’t be a Jedi _ , he thought, something close to bitter amusement filling his mind.  _ I’m a murderer, I deserve to die…!  _

A laugh of madness was ripped from his throat; it was genuine and yet desperate at the same time. It was so easy! He could just die! He didn’t have to deal with this anymore, he could leave everything behind! 

He would pay for what he’d done, and nobody would get hurt. It would be easy, he just had to jump…

As if in a trance, he took a step forward, eyes fixed on the edge of the precipice, never leaving his target. 

_ So easy, so easy! _

One small jump and it’s all over, come on, Luke, you can do this…

The drop beneath him was deep - deeper than he had initially thought. Would it hurt? Did it hurt to die?

He would find out soon. 

Another laugh escaped him, filled with a euphoric tinge of relief.  **You’re free, Luke, you’re free.**

He took another step forward, his toes touching the very edge of the precipice. His heart hammered in his chest from his thrill, his relief and his fear.  _ Would it hurt? Would he cry?  _

A deep breath filled his lungs; the exhale was shallow. He was breathing too fast, he realized, but there was no panic, no fear at that. His eyes were glued to the bottom of the precipice, trying to find the bottom of the abyss and failing to do so. There was only mist there, only the thick cloud of death…

_ He would die, he deserved to die... _

This was it. No time now. 

Another deep breath, another spasm of his muscles as he tried to brace himself.  _ I’m sorry, Leia _ , he whispered silently,  _ I’m sorry, Han. I have to die.  _

He looked up, briefly, his tear-filled eyes taking in the beauty of the world around him. There was a sun above him, so much like the one he had watched on Tatooine. He was just a boy then - a mere farm boy yearning for adventure.

He wished he could go back.

_ Goodbye, sky. Goodbye, stars.  _

_ I wish I could fly one last time. _

But his time was running out. He had to jump.

One last breath, one last glance at the sun…

And then, closing his eyes with an airless sigh, he tilted his body forward, about to jump. 

There was a brief moment of pain as fear clenched his heart, a sudden realization that _he was going to die,_ and then a heavy sound filled his mind, rooting him to the spot and preventing him from falling down. 

His eyes closed in anguish as the sound of a respirator filled his mind, feeling tears slide down his cheeks as his father’s rage struck him down. 

“ _ Step back, son, _ ” the heavy voice seethed. “ _ You will not jump.”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter! If so, feel free to leave a comment an kudos below ;) 
> 
> I'm really sad that this book is nearing the end - I had so much fun writing this, and I can't believe there's only one chapter left... I hope you've all been enjoying this story so far, and I can't wait to post the last chapter!


	10. My Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader confronts Luke and tries to talk him down, which results in a lot of angst and feels;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: suicide attempt
> 
> Omg guys, this is it! The last chapter of this book! I had soooo much fun writing this, and I am so grateful for all your feedback on this work!
> 
> Have fun reading the last chapter!

“ _ Step back, son, _ ” the heavy voice seethed. “ _ You will not jump.”  _

Tears streamed down Luke’s cheeks as he turned around,  _ slightly,  _ still facing away from his father. His body was rigid and hunched, curling upon itself as if to protect him from Vader, even though he knew it wasn’t the Sith Lord who was the real danger this time. 

His muscles trembled as desperation shook him, a quiet sob getting stuck in his throat. “No…” he whispered, hoarsely, trying to deny it, trying to take it all back. Vader couldn’t be here, he couldn’t, Luke was ready to jump, it was too late now…

“...no, no…” he repeated, his voice choked, his eyes wide. “...no…”

There was a rustle, a step in the grass, and he quickly turned his head around. 

“No!” he yelled as he saw his father approach him. “Go away! Stay back!”

Vader stopped at his words but did not retreat. His masked eyes never left Luke’s, and the boy found himself unable to look away. For a moment, there was only silence between them, a few seconds filled with nothing but stillness, before he turned around abruptly, his eyes again facing away from his father. 

“Please,” he whispered, his voice watery and broken, his gaze refusing to look away from the ground. “Please just go.” 

He didn’t want to be left alone - he really didn’t, he truly wanted his father to stay. It was all so overwhelming, everything was  _ too much _ , and even the person that had brought him nothing but pain seemed like the greatest comfort he could get. But Vader couldn’t stay - the Sith had to go. Luke had made his choice, and he was going to jump. He  _ had to  _ do it, there was no other way.

Somehow, he sensed… sadness emanating from his father - not anger, not rage, but sadness - sadness for him, Luke realized, as his eyes once again searched for the bottom of the precipice. And again, he wanted to cry, although there was anger clenching his own heart - why couldn’t Vader just let him go? Why didn’t Vader understand that he _ had to _ die?

“No,” the Dark Lord said behind him, putting his hands on his hips as if to emphasize his point. “I will not leave, and you will step away from that precipice.” 

Again, a command; his father was  _ commanding _ him to step away, just as he had  _ commanded _ him to answer the questions during the interrogations, and Luke would never obey him…- 

“I sense your turmoil,” Vader said, interrupting his thoughts. He took a  _ very slight _ step towards him, his eyes never leaving Luke’s. “You are overwhelmed by your emotions, but you are a Jedi, and you know…-”

“I’m not a Jedi!” Luke screamed at that. “Just look at what I’ve done! There’s nothing left for me - nothing! Nothing but death!” 

He broke at the last word, exhaling his breath with a sob. Was he being irrational? Maybe - maybe not. The matter of who he was no longer existed - it couldn’t, for he was about to die. All that mattered now was to jump, to step away, because he had to do something with his bleeding pain, because he had to die…

And still, he didn’t want to. 

But there was no other choice.

“Luke,” his father repeated. “Step away from the ledge.” 

There it was again - an order, a command. Even more fury filled his mind. “Stop telling me what to do!” He screamed. “You don’t have control over me anymore! It is  **my** choice now!  **_Mine!_ ** ” 

And still, Vader was calm. “We both know that it is not.” 

“Oh, really?” he asked, although his voice was quieter now, even trembling slightly at the end. “Because you’re going to stop me? Like you did on Bespin?”

Again, he expected anger from his father at this statement - the reminder of the Sith’s failure in Cloud City - but again he found none. It was amusing, almost - this time it was Vader who was the calm one and Luke who was battling with rage. And yet he didn’t dwell on what had caused that sudden change. 

“You don’t want to die for the same reason you did on Bespin, Luke.”

He froze at those words, heart beating faster. Numbly, he felt his muscles relax; his expression softened slightly as he looked at his Vader with wide eyes. “I don’t…” he whispered, but the words were lost on him, suddenly replaced with confusion, because his father was…  _ right.  _ When he had jumped on Bespin, it was because he had rejected the Dark Side - it was a noble choice, then. A choice of a Jedi who would rather die than give in to anger.

Rather than lose control over his own emotions. 

But this? This was cowardly. He had murder innocents, and he couldn’t live with that; but instead of fighting, instead of helping those who he had hurt, he simply chose to give up. Was this really what a Jedi would do? Take his own life because he couldn’t deal with his guilt?

_ Do or do not. There is no try.  _

But Yoda had been wrong. Maybe he could still try. 

Maybe he could still live - maybe he could go back. There was nothing he could do to erase what he had done, but if he just refused to give up, if he just stepped away from that edge, then maybe…

...just maybe…

...his father would help him. 

Maybe his father would save him. 

He looked up, eyes wet, swimming with pain and fear. His father’s mask appeared almost soft in the Naboo sunlight, the sharp angles lost in the blinding light. There must have been a youthful face underneath it once, a face of a Jedi who had nothing but goodness in his heart. His father had been Anakin Skywalker once, a man whom his mother had loved...

But then, a dark cloud moved across the sky, momentarily covering the sun, and suddenly, it all rushed back to him as the mask once again became angular and sharp, terrifying him to the core, because his father had told him only days ago---

_ “You fired the shot, Luke. You’ve killed them all. They’re dead because of you.” _

_ “You deserve the pain. You deserve to suffer for what you have done.” _

_ “Savor the pain, Luke.” _

**Savor it.**

**Feel it!**

**Feel it NOW!**

And at that moment, he understood - there was no turning back now - no escaping from what he had done. “It’s too late,” he whispered, once again turning back, away from Vader, away from the word that he had once fought for. “I can’t live with this.” 

And, with once final exhale, he whispered:

“I’m sorry.” 

***

Vader had not noticed when Luke woke up and escaped. Perhaps it was because he was too focused on his meditation, too deeply emerged in his thoughts. 

Perhaps it was because he was so thrilled at the very idea that from now on, he would protect his son. 

But then, he had felt Luke’s guilt, and it had practically  _ ripped  _ him from his meditation and startled him, disorienting him with overwhelming emotions that were coming from his son. Concerned, he had headed towards Luke’s room, expecting danger to the boy, but he had found none. 

His son was no longer there.

Panic had seized Vader then; he had run outside of the facility, desperate to find his child. He could  _ feel  _ Luke outside, running somewhere though the soft Naboo grass, and he had followed the trail, realizing that the boy was too caught up in self-hatred to shield his presence. 

There was guilt tugging at him all the time, a terrible realization that he should have never brought his son to Naboo. The boy would have been less likely to escape if they had simply remained on the Executor,  _ but no _ . For some reason, Vader had brought Luke here, to his mother’s homeworld, because he felt that that was where the boy belonged, that only his mother’s  _ presence  _ could heal him. It had been a privacy choice too; after getting rid of most of the staff, save for a few doctors, the Dark Lord could spend countless hours at his son’s bedside without worrying about unwanted rumors to be spread. 

That would explain why Luke had managed to sneak out so easily - there was almost no-one to stop him; no one to protect him but his father.

He had been foolish. 

He found his son moments later, far in the fields that he had walked on once. His child was there, standing on the edge of a precipice, his muscles trembling, his body hunched, and Vader could sense only one thing on the boy’s mind. 

To  _ jump _ . 

At that moment, everything froze; everything went still and quiet, as if time was nothing more than a mere concept. Everything became clear, everything became sharp. He could see the slight quivering of Luke’s shoulders, the way his fingers clenched as his eyes looked down, the way the strands of his soft blond hair were moving with the wind as he tilted his weight to jump. 

Vader would not allow his son to die like that. 

And so now, as Luke uttered those terrible words, the quiet whisper of ‘ _ I’m sorry’ _ , the greatest fear he’d ever known clenched his heart. 

“No!” he roared, striding to his son as fast as he could. “I will not allow you to die -- you will not jump!” 

Perhaps his son had reacted to his words, perhaps not. Vader couldn’t tell anymore - so blinding was the force of his anger. He could not allow that -  _ would not _ allow that. His son  _ would not die _ . 

Again, rage shook his voice. “You will step back - you will listen to me, you  **will** step back!”

He finally reached Luke, and immediately, the boy shrunk back, almost instantly falling from the edge, but Vader would have none of that. In a swift move, he extended his arm, reaching out to grab Luke’s hand and pull him back. 

“NO!” The boy screamed. “NO, STAY BACK!” 

And at that moment, Vader realized it wasn’t about death anymore - it wasn’t about whether or not his son wanted to jump. He didn’t - the Sith could see it clearly now. Luke wanted to live - wanted to stay, but he couldn’t, because he was too afraid of what would happen if he didn’t die. 

Luke was afraid that his father would destroy him. 

That his father would allow his son’s guilt to consume him. 

And at that moment, when Luke’s eyes suddenly softened, and desperation filled his eyes, he softly gave him the answer that his son had been silently pleading for ever since his capture. 

“Can you... help me?” the boy had quietly asked, and Vader answered him immediately, his arm once again reaching out and wrapping mechanical fingers around Luke’s hand. 

“I will, my son. With all my heart.”

***

Fingers wrapped around his hand and his father pulled him forward, effectively putting distance between him and the precipice. Limply, he allowed himself to be moved to the side and then turned around so that he was standing exactly in front of the Dark Lord. His body was trembling despite Vader’s hands on his shoulders trying to hold him still; he was staring intensely at the ground, too afraid to look up. 

Then, there was a finger under his chin and his head was pulled up. He started at his father’s mask, tears forming in his eyes, and still, he stood silent, unable to speak. 

“Son.”

He broke at that. Tears fell as he heard the gentle word and immediately, he felt himself being pressed against the armored chest. A sob tore from his throat and the gloved hands tightened around his back, one moving up to his hair and gently stroking it. 

“It’s alright,” his father said softly and Luke cried harder at that, shoulders shaking in the tight embrace. 

They stood like that for some time; Luke couldn’t tell exactly how long it was. Everything moved slowly while he was pressed against Vader’s chest with his hands rubbing comforting circles on his head and back. 

And yet, for some reason, this didn’t matter - it didn’t matter that he had allowed himself to be pulled back, because his father had said he would help him. 

His father had promised to save him. 

He’d yearned for that all his life. 

Minutes passed, and eventually, he calmed down, sobs turning into gasps and then into deeper breaths. 

His father waited until his emotions simmered down; held him until his muscles were soothed into stillness. “I have lived with guilt for twenty years,” he said then, softly, quietly, and Luke’s breathing hitched as he focused to catch every word. “It is a powerful emotion, and in the end, it causes nothing but regret. But you, Luke, are strong - stronger than I ever was - and you  _ will _ learn how to live with that.”

Luke sniffed and nodded at Vader’s words, pressing his cheek harder against the chest plate. He wasn’t sure if his father was right - wasn’t sure if he could ever learn to live with what he had done. But at that moment, wrapped tightly in his father’s arms, it didn’t matter; his father -  _ his father! _ \- was here now, and everything  _ had to _ be alright. 

He understood it now. His father  _ knew  _ guilt. For so long, he’d thought that Vader had been driven by anger and hate, that it was his malicious nature that had been the source of everything the Sith had done. Somehow, he’d forgotten that those emotions must have had a source. 

His father had fought against guilt and lost - had become a slave to the Dark Side because he believed there was nothing else he deserved. But Luke hadn’t lost yet - and now he knew he never would - and he would not allow himself to fall like his father had in the past.

And now, he wanted his father to know. He wanted his father to know that his guilt too had had a source. 

“...it was my mother,” he whispered, quietly, his face still buried against Vader’s chestplate. “...I destroyed the Palace to keep them from ruining my mother’s grave.” 

His father didn’t respond, but Luke knew the Sith had heard him, and that was enough. He continued.

“...I...I know I shouldn’t have. I know there was another way… But it was just too much, because I saw her, I felt the goodness of her heart, and I wished I’d known her, and I never had, and I just wanted to have her back…-”

And then, with a quiet sigh, he whispered with sadness and defeat:

“I don’t know if she ever loved me, but I love her very much. I just wished I could have her back.”

The hands on his back stilled, then moved up to his shoulders and pulled him away. He looked up, right into the lenses of Vader’s mask, and suddenly, he could almost  _ feel  _ the sad smile on his father’s lips. 

“She loved you, Luke. So very much.” 

A sob tore from his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut, head immediately going down. His cries weren’t silent anymore - he was bawling now, unable to restrain himself, unable to cope with what he had heard. Vader didn’t comfort him, but simply allowed him to cry, waiting for his son to again calm down. 

“It’s just so much,” he sobbed, his tear-filled eyes finally looking up. “I’ve always wished I’d known you - I wanted to know you so much! I would always look at the sky and wish you would come, that I would meet my father and my mom, and I…-- and then I found you, and you were Darth Vader, and you cut off my hand, and I just wanted to take it all back… and my mother, I’ve never known her, never even knew her name, but I found her grave and I just wanted to stay with her, to talk to her, to know what she had looked like... And I just-- I didn’t know what to, they were gonna destroy it and I needed her so much…--”

“I know.”

The words were silent, and yet they were loud, and Luke heard them so clearly he wanted to shout, because it was impossible that his father understood, that Luke had finally found what he was looking for all this life…-

“She loved you, Luke,” Vader spoke again, “-and she was so excited to meet you. She was an angel, and she had a good heart, and you cannot be a bad person, Luke - not if you are her son - because everything she brought into the universe was always  _ perfect _ .” 

And then, he was turned around, and Vader’s strong hands again settled on his arms. 

“Do you see those fields, Luke?” his father asked, pointing at the scenery surrounding them. “I’ve been here before. With your mother.” 

In his desperation and blind rage, when he had run across the field with blood falling down his calves, he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t paid attention to the nature around him - hadn’t thought that he’d walked on the grass his mother had once set her feet on. 

But now, he could see. Now he knew. 

“She was looking beautiful that day,” Vader continued, his voice distant, and Luke realized his father also was overwhelmed by his emotions now. How could he not have thought about that before? Vader had lost so many people in his life, and yet Luke had selfishly tried to take his own life and deprive his father of the only son he had. His shoulders shook as he realized what had happened - that if not for his father, he wouldn’t even be alive now. 

That he would never get to hear of his mother - the mother he had sacrificed everything for, the mother he so desperately wanted to protect. 

“She was so graceful that day, and she was so happy too…” Vader continued, his voice soft, his touch light. “She was older than me; we met when I was only nine years old, but whenever I was next to hear, I felt  _ happy.  _ That day when we were in those fields, I kept thinking about how much I  _ loved _ her, how much I needed her in my life. I couldn’t live without her.”

Luke was listening to every word with such focus as if his life depended on it. He’d always yearned to hear that - to know that his parents were in  _ love _ \- that his father felt happy when his mother was around. His eyes gazed softly at the fields stretching before them, basking in the warm sunlight. 

But then, he blinked, eyes hardening, mouth sealing shut. That statement - that statement his father had said - those words  _ I couldn’t live without her _ \- were so important, because if they were true, if he said that, then it meant--

“This is why you turned, isn’t it, father?” he asked softly, looking straight into the eye plates of Vader’s mask. “Because when she died, Anakin Skywalker could no longer live?” 

His father flinched at that, but it was not angry. The gloved hands tightened around Luke’s shoulders in a protective, loving manner, and he relaxed in the comforting grip. Vader - no,  _ Anakin _ leaned over him, as if he was about to tell his son a well-protected secret, and said: 

“Yes. But her son had brought Anakin back to life.” 

And that was all Luke ever needed to hear. 

  
  


_ ~fin~ _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is it - the book is finished. Once again, I wanted to thank you so much for reading this story, and for all your comments and kudos - they literally made my heart melt♡ I hope you enjoyed this book as much as I did, and again, thank you so much!


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